A Heart Stolen by Vampires
by Moonflower04
Summary: Arela is thrown from her life as a thief and into one as a vampire hunter, but fate has another plan when she is given only one option... to become the one thing she swore to destroy – a vampire. Problems only escalate when Harkon takes an interest in Arela's power as the Dragonborn, and the only one that can protect Arela from Harkon's evil ways is Serana. Vampire Lord Storyline.
1. Where's a Fire When You Need It?

**[A/N]: Hey guys, this is my first fanfic, and I'm really excited to see how this turns out. When I got Dawnguard I fell madly in love with Serana, Lord Harkon and his court. All the troubles in the court made me want to expand upon them, as well as the Dawnguard storyline itself. So I set out on the monumental task of writing a novel length fic about it. I've also decided to make some adjustments to the Dawnguard storyline to make it more interesting. Feel free to leave your comments, questions or concerns, I definitely want to hear what you guys have to say. Well, here we go...**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series or Bethesda. I'm just giving them the credit they deserve, but Arela and Enden are my characters.**

* * *

_**~******__Maroon 5, Harder __**to Breathe**_

_**When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love  
You'll understand what I mean when I say  
There's no way we're gonna give up  
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams  
Is there anyone out there 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe  
Is there anyone out there 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe**_

* * *

The snow fell in thick sheets, but Arela hadn't expected anything different from northern Skyrim. Moments like this made her feel blessed to be a true Skyrim raised Nord; she had adapted to the cold, and it was only a bonus her Nord blood allowed some resistance to the numbing cold. The frigid air had been nipping at her skin for almost an hour, which caused her exposed fingers to turn a bright shade of magenta.

Arela was satisfied with her decision to bring her Nightingale armor, which clung tightly to her body keeping in her body heat and shielding her in the shadows away from prying eyes. It only help that it this blizzard would disguise her as well; she was convinced that no one could see her now.

The snow whirled around her obscuring everything in her sight; she could hardly making out the giant decrepit castle in front of her. The castle had two visible spires, one of which looked like it was about to topple into the sea. Arela had heard stories from sailors at the bars in Riften about this place; they claimed the place has been haunted well before the first era, and now seeing the castle for herself only made the stories seem more realistic.

She couldn't help but chuckle at how funny fate seemed to be. Only a few days ago she had been kicking back at Fort Dawnguard, and now she was hiding in a frozen ditch next to an old watchtower.

Arela almost missed Fort Dawnguard, the nice warm fires, and hot meals; it was a haven for the cold and hungry. But she was sure that many of the members had been glad the day she had departed for Dimhollow Crypt. Arela had a way of finding trouble, and pulling pranks on many members of the fort hadn't helped. She had been raised in the Thieves Guild and pranks had been a daily occurrence. She had learned from the best; Delvin had always been a master at pulling pranks.

So, when things had gotten boring (which was frequent) she would often pull a prank or two. Her favorite was when she had put worms in Isran's boot's, but the best part was Arela had framed Agmaer; the newest member at the time. She was confident that after a short time Isran began to suspect her, because he realized Agmaer wasn't smart enough to think of such brilliant pranks.

So when the Vigilant Tolan had come complaining about powerful vampires destroying the Hall of the Vigilant Isran decided it would be great to get rid of Arela and her brother Enden; they had always been the most obnoxious members at the fort.

Isran had sent them to Dimhollow Crypt with Tolan. Tolan was dead when they even got there; he thought it was a magnificent idea to charge in by himself.

She was pretty sure Isran was hoping that the vampires would kill them, because he had been silently infuriated with Arela and Enden since they joined. But Arela and Enden were definitely more powerful than a small militia of vampires.

But what they found at Dimhollow was what really disturbed her the most. Enden had found a young woman trapped in a monolith. The women's blazing orange eyes and her snow pale skin had given it away; she was a vampire. Honestly Arela didn't have a quarrel with vampires, but Enden did; he despised them to their very core, and Isran was a whole other story.

The mystifying part was this young girl had an Elder Scroll; something that Arela had only read about.

Arela only felt empathy for the young girl she seemed so lost and confused; it reminded Arela of herself after she had joined the Nightingales. That had been the most difficult period in Arela's life, when she had ventured to hunt down Mercer Frey for the Skeleton Key; she hated to even think about the whole ordeal.

The mysterious woman said her name was Serana and that she wasn't sure how long she had been locked away. So, she urged Arela and Enden to take her to her home north of Solitude. Arela's brother, Enden, had decided that he would take Serana 'home' and quietly told Arela to follow them; he wasn't sure if he could trust Serana. Arela had split up from them after they freed Serana from Dimhollow Crypt; Enden had wanted Arela to cover their tracks, but she was at least a one day's journey behind them. As of now she had tracked them here, to Castle Volkihar.

And now because of her brother's paranoia Arela was crouching behind some freezing rocks, next to a watchtower waiting for something to happen. She had been sitting outside for at least an hour waiting for any signs of her brother or the mysterious woman named Serana. Serana had begged them to take her home, claiming that she needed to figure out what was going on. Serana told them that they could be safe at her home, depending on who was there. Which didn't comfort Arela at all, now that she was crouching behind the castle's watchtower.

* * *

Another half an hour had past; Arela was starting to get restless, and drawing pictures in the frozen dirt was beginning to get boring. If nothing happened soon Arela considered jumping back into the boat and rowing herself back to Skyrim's shores.

As Arela was contemplating leaving she heard low murmurs from over by the small boat behind her. She slowly shifted her feet hoping to make the least amount of noise possible. Arela strained her ears to hear what they were talking about.

"Do you smell that Stalf?" Arela just made out the words, which were said by a women with a frail, but high-strung sounding voice.

Arela's muscles tensed instantly at the comment, and her heart started to pick up its pace in her chest. She stopped breathing for a second, afraid that her own breath might compromise her position.

The man (or vampire which was more likely) named Stalf scoffed "Fura are you getting forgetful? I'm pretty sure it's just the lingering smell of that one mortal that arrive during our court meeting yesterday with Lady Serana." Arela's heart beat slowed a bit; she assumed the mortal they were talking about was Enden. _So Enden is somewhere in that castle and so is Serana._

"I'm not forgetful, it smells more resent to me. I think you're losing your touch Stalf." The woman Fura snapped.

Arela silently scooted more over hoping she could maybe get a glimpse of the vampires position. Arela nervously leaned forward silently praying to Nocturnal that she wouldn't be spotted by the vampires.

Unfortunately the only thing Arela saw was a small brambly bush next to the boat and a heap of rocks. But she saw footprints in the thick snow and they lead to the castle so she felt a little relief wash over her.

Arela slowly turned around to face the opposite direction of the boat, relieved the two vampires had left.

In a split second Arela realized she was mistaken, when she was met with a pair was of glowing reddish eyes that blazed like fire. Arela stumbles backwards, but instantly she felt the hand of her attacker wrap about her neck, and her feet leave the ground as the women lifted Arela in the air. She let out a muffled scream, but it was only in vain, as no one was around to hear it, other than a man who was behind her attacker; which she assumed was Stalf.

Arela wiggled frantically, desperately praying her attacker might lose her grip on Arela's neck. But Arela only felt the hand constrict around her neck with a crushing force, and genuine fear set in as her lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, and her vision started to blacken around the edges.

"Well.. well, well, look what I found," Fura said in a wicked tone, as Stalf watched Arela choke out.

Finally Stalf spoke, "Fura, I'm sure that you would love to kill this mortal, but our Lord will want to discover her reasons for trying to ambush us. If she is a spy Lord Harkon will want to deal with her." Her attacker, Fura, let out a disheartened sign, before she loosened her grip on Arela's neck, but just enough so she didn't feel like her windpipe was being turned to dust. Arela still couldn't breath and her vision was starting to darken so quickly she felt unconsciousness creeping in.

"Stalf you ruin all the fun." Fura uttered, though Arela could hardly comprehend anything, the lack of oxygen was making it impossible to focus. "I suppose I can spare her life for right now, but only because it would please Lord Harkon, and you know how I live to please him." Her suggestive tone disturbed Arela more than anything, but Fura continued in the same tone of voice. "Plus he would want to kill her himself; he loves to have a little bit of fun from time to time." Fura's grip on her neck loosened a bit more, just enough for Arela to get a small gasp of air.

Stalf chuckled lowly and said "Oh, I know how to ruin all the fun, do I?" His voice sounded lightly flirtatious.

All Arela could think about was beating his brains in, _how can you be flirting at a time like this; I'm choking to death!_ Stalf then turned a bit more serious and his voice lowered an octave, "Fura you know we can't take her back to the castle awake, Lord Harkon would make sure we never saw another night again."

"Oh, you're right Stalf don't worry I'll take care of it."

Instantly Arela felt Fura's hand jerk back in a lightning fast movement. In that moment Arela's head connected with the stone wall of the watchtower behind her; with breathtaking force. Stars jutted across her vision before she fell into an unconscious slumber.


	2. Waking Up With Skooma Addicts

**[A/N]: Hey guys, thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows. You guys are truly my inspiration, I would also like to especially thank my beta for all the help with my first chapter and the constructive criticisms. Any who this was going to be a really long chapter originally, but I decided it might be better to split it into two chapters. The next one is a bit longer, but this one is leading up to it.**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's job. But I own Arela and Enden, they are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Avenged Sevenfold, Nightmare **_

_**Dragged ya down below, down to the devil's show**_  
_** To be his guest forever, peace of mind is less than never**_  
_** Hate to twist your mind, but God ain't on your side**_  
_** And old acquaintance severed, burn the world your last endeavor.**_

* * *

Slowly consciousness washed over her, in a warm wave. Arela could hear the swirl of muffled talking around her, but that only made her close her eyes tightly. Fear coiled in her stomach, like a snake making her feel nauseous. But she knew she couldn't hide forever in herself induced darkness, she would have to face whatever reality was around her, and so Arela reluctantly opened her eyes.

Her fingers were numb and tingles shot up her spine when she moved her feet, her eyes felt dry and painful to move with the blinding headache raging behind them.

Arela was greeted with the sight of a prison cell, in what looked like a dungeon. She hesitantly looked over her shoulder to see a small number of people on the right hand side of the cell; they were in rags and mumbling incoherently to each other, hugging closely to the cold stone of the walls.

She gazed toward the ceiling, confirming by the height of the rocky ceilings. She was most likely in a dungeon.

Arela looked around and noticed a pair of old crumbling stairs in front of her, assuming it to be the only exit. She moved her hands to get up and noticed the ground was covered in a thick layer of bones that were coated in a black slim. Her mind jumped at the sight and immediately she knew her fate. Vampires.

Arela quickly pulled herself up. Her head was spinning from the rush of blood that traveled away from her brain, and an intense headache formed.

Taking off her Nightingale hood, Arela rubbed the back of her skull to null the pain. But realized she had a large lump forming on the back of her head. She could feel a small amount of her own blood trickling from a gash on the back of her scalp.

There was no way to treating the wound in this cell, so Arela silently prayed to Nocturnal that the gash wasn't too serious.

Arela turned her thoughts onto an escape plan. She knew she needed to get out, feeling desperate she turned to the people on the other side of the cell.

She could tell some of them had been here awhile, their eyes had become sullen and dark against their white skin, their hair had taken a whitish haze over their natural color and their bright blue veins could be seen through their thin skin that was covered in tattered rags.

It might be a great idea to ask them if they knew anyway out, but she doubted it or they wouldn't still be here. But against her better judgment she walked up to an Imperial woman, and asked.

"Do you know a way out?" As Arela took a step closer she could smell the putrid stench of Skooma. The girl was so drugged that she probably couldn't even remember her own name.

But to Arela's surprise the Imperial girl turned to look at her; her eyes were glassy and her gaze was dazed, "Where am I..?" The young girl stuttered. Before Arela could respond the girl passed out on a pile of rags. She thought bitterly as she looked down on the woman, breathing in harsh tight breaths. this day was not going well, but Arela had been through worse.

Arela decided she wasn't going to waste her time talking to her other cell members; she could tell that they were all in a similar state as the Imperial girl.

As she was assessing the situation on how to escape, Arela heard footsteps, and they were approaching at a fast pace, but to her relief it was only Serana. But Serana's expression unnerved Arela; The yellow of her immortal eyes were cold and angry, almost frightening.

"What are you doing here!?" Serana blurted out. "Do you have any idea what they will do to me, if they find out I told you where to find us?"

"Serana help me please, you have to get me out of here!" Arela's voice cracked in desperation.

"I can't... they are coming to get you soon you're on trial, but I can help... well I hope... all I have to do is explain what happened to my father." Her eyes softened almost apologetic for their cold fire from moments ago.

"Your father...?"

"Well yes, he presides over the court." Serana's expression only became edgy at the mentioning of her father. "I'm sorry to say but after we sort out the matter of how you arrived here, there is going to be a bigger problem..." Serana looked nervous, as if afraid if her location was discovered she might not see tomorrow.

"What could be a bigger problem than being captured by a group of blood thirsty vampires?"

"Let me explain. My father is going to offer you a... gift as he calls it. It's a gift for the assistance in my safe return."

"Oh, you make it seem like receiving a gift is a punishment." Arela joked halfheartedly.

"Well this gift I'm talking about is... vampirism, a special form of vampirism, and I'm afraid you will probably have to accept it, if you wish to live." Serana muttered out awkwardly.

"What!? Wait so you're saying I have to accept this offering? Why? What will happen if I don't?" Arela couldn't keep the ferocity out of her voice.

"Well your brother, Enden, insulted my father by not accepting his offer... and I know my father will not take well to having two mortals turn down this gift in one day... I fear that he will... well essentially kill you for your 'insolence'." Serana was staring at Arela with a look of compassionate sorrow. "I'm sorry if this isn't a path you would choose personally, but... I knew I had to warn you. My father doesn't take the answer 'no' lightly. I thought it was best to inform you before you decided to refuse him, you still can if you want but at least you will know the outcome."

Arela was submerged in thought and honestly, pure and unadulterated fear. Finally she was able to force some words out "So what is it like to be... turned, is it painful?"

"For the person being turned it is...excruciating, the worst pain you will ever feel. But for my father it will be quite... intimate. No mortal has ever survived his bite because in truth... he doesn't allow them to. I truly think he is afraid of the bond he will create with them."

"Bond?" Arela was trying with all her might to shake off a chill that had fallen upon her.

"When a vampire bites a mortal they enthrall them; making them your slave whom wish to please you at all times, you know... it's similar for a vampire turning a mortal. A bond is created that is distinct... you might become attached to my father. It has different effects on different people, for some there is no bond, but for others it is unbreakable, so I have heard. Being turned is... complicated to say the less. My father, I can tell has avoided it mostly thus far." Serana's expression made Arela feel uncomfortable. "The bonding part is why my father hasn't allowed any mortal to live, when he decides to change them... bonding isn't his thing, he despises it. Trust me... I have felt the blunt effects."

Arela was gripping the bars on her cell so tightly that Serana could see the whites of her knuckles. "I can't do this... It sounds like some lose-lose situation; no matter what I do there isn't a good outcome..." She let her hands drop from the bars in a defeated fashion.

"If there was any other way I could help you I would... I just want you to know that I will think no less of you no matter what decision you make." Serana grabbed Arela's hand and held as a comforting gesture.

"So, what did you mean by: 'I'm on trial'" Arela asked with a shaky, desperate tone.

But before Serana could answer the question there was the distant sound of footsteps which made both of them turn their heads. "You will find out soon enough. I will cover for you this once, but you owe me." Serana smiled lightly before bolted off in a blur of shadows.

How Serana was going to get past them was beyond Arela's comprehension.

The loud foots steps were approaching; she could only guess it was two men.

Panic clouded her thoughts; she frantically slid her hood back on and ran in the corner to cover herself in a veil of shadows. Arela whirled around in time to see two male Nord vampires stop at her cell, open the door, and step in. She recognized the one vampire in dark robes from before.

The other vampire was wearing white robes; his hair was a dark brown and he had high cheek bones which cast a shadowy look over the sides of his face. But of all things the most peculiar thing was his nose; it was extremely high up on his face and look almost scrunched up.

They both locked their fiery yellow eyes on her, and before she could even make a move they had both grabbed each of her arms and were viciously dragging her out of the cell and up the crumbling stairs. "Let's not keep Lord Harkon waiting," they almost said in unison.


	3. The Cold Blooded Court

**[A/N]: Hey guys, thank you so much for all the support; I'm so happy to see people are enjoying my story! This chapter is really intense; and was one of my favorite chapters to write so far. You finally get to meet Lord Harkon! Personally I'm excited to see how you guys like it. So enjoy!**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, though I frequently wish I did, these characters are Bethseda's work not mine. I'm just giving them the credit they deserve. But Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Sarah Bareilles, King of Anything**_

_**Who cares if you disagree?  
You are not me  
Who made you king of anything?  
So you dare tell me who to be  
Who died and made you king of anything?**_

* * *

The two vampires dragged Arela up the steps and out of the dungeon with such brute force that Arela thought her arms were going to be ripped off.

Arela knew she wasn't going without a fight, though she realized it was futile because vampires are much stronger than man or mer.

Her fight resembled a temper tantrum of a six year old child. She kicked and screeched insults. "Get off me you slobbering, hagraven loving half-wit!"

But to Arela's discontent the two men only increased their grip on her arms, to the point that anymore force would have snapped her arms clean off.

"I will have dragons piss on your grave if you don't let me go now!" Arela screeched, with her fingers clawing at whatever they could touch of her attackers. They had finished climbing two flights of steps, but Arela was still wildly thrashing in their arms trying to escape, while stifling a scream of agony.

The one vampire Arela had recognized finally spoke, "If I were you I would shut up, Lord Harkon will not like it if you disrespect him while he is holding your trial. Am I right Rargal?"

"Yes, you're right, Stalf, so shut up mortal or our Lord Harkon will snap your neck without a second thought!" Rargal growled at her. That comment silenced her, but she still attempted to fight them; though Arela knew she had lost.

They were now taking her through a small hallway that had two tables on each side of the wall, and on each of those tables were seven mighty kegs. Arela knew that Delvin would be in heaven here, there so much alcohol he wouldn't even know what to do with it all.

But when she inspected the kegs as she was dragged by, Arela was hit with shock as she saw the thick redness that dripped from them, Arela tasted bile as it rose in her throat and she tried to look away, feeling a twisted sense of rationalized fear and disgust, but her attacker's now firm hold of her kept her still.

Just the look of blood was so nauseating to Arela; her head started to spin and the world blurred around her. Although she was not pleased in her current position, she knew passing out was a high possibility for her weak stomach and she was slightly glad someone was helping her stay upright.

Stalf and Rargal's pace had slowed, and she realized they were near their final destination; Arela began to feel apprehensive.

It didn't take her long to figure out why; they were entering a dining hall full of vampires. Vampires of all races: elves, humans and even an orc. It was odd to watch all the races getting along in peaceful harmony. No one has ever been able to get all the races to cooperate; only the Imperial Legion and clans of bandits had managed to stifle racism.

Arela couldn't stop the nervous cold sweat from running down her back now; these vampires look highly dangerous. From their weapons she could tell most of them were powerful mages and experienced warriors. Their teeth gleamed over tight lips and their bright eyes watched her as she was brought past, feeling a thousand eyes of predators, Arela tried not to show her unease.

Stalf's words ran through her mind like wildfire, this trail could be the end of her.

Arela straightened her back as much as she could and held her chin high. Her confidence was slowly beginning to resurface; the same pride that had gotten her a high ranked member in the Guild, the pride that had led her to lead the Guild, and the same pride that had led her to succeed in most of her missions. If she was leaving the Nirn, she was leaving it with courage.

Arela breathed slowly, reminding herself of Nocturnal, whose favor she had. If lady luck deemed it, this trial might go well and she might not become the newest drinking fountain.

The room was dim; the only form of light was a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Beautiful tapestries hung from the walls which accented the old stone bricks. The tables were arranged in a U-shape with two servants in rags standing at the ends, serving what looked like blood in cups.

All the confidence that had once surged through her body drained from her with the sight that awaited her. On the tables laid people; people that looked worse than tortured victims.

Their limbs were mangled to the point they would never move again; they moaned in pain as she was dragged pass them. The coppery scent of blood twisted its way into her lungs and Arela didn't want to breathe. She could taste it on her tongue and her stomach recoiled.

Arela's heart skipped a few beats as she realized that very soon that could be her.

She wanted so desperately to run, but she was trapped like an animal at a slaughter house.

As Arela was struggling to escape, her attention was called to a tall Nord man with ebony black hair and a short beard standing in the middle of the dining hall floor. As Arela was dragged to the center of the room she got a decent look at his face.

He was a vampire, with dangerous eyes and paper white skin, but he had a commanding stature to him. His face contained a very blank expression, as if he did not want to give anything away. He reminded her of a politician because their expressions never voiced a single emotion.

He had a small amount of visible wrinkles from the passing of time, but the Nord vampire still looked fairly young.

He was wearing a blushing red shirt under a gray colored chest plate that had gilded shoulder plates. It seemed he had a black flowing cape that was surprisingly short, pinned up with a silvery broach. Everything about him reminded her of the Jarls, from his fancy and elegant attire, to his cold and unwelcoming expression.

The Nord man finally turned his attention to Arela. His eyes were like liquid gold with the brightness of the moon that ruled them, but they were cold as they washed over her body, undressing her to the very bone.

Stalf and Rargal shoved Arela at the Nord's feet, forcing her to stare at his black boots. Arela knew that the Nord must love humiliating his victims before their death.

Arela wasn't planning on giving him the satisfaction he desired; the satisfaction of begging for her life before his minions. Arela had never begged for her life in all the confrontations with death she had encountered, and she wasn't about to start now.

"It's not every day that my court members find a mortal lurking outside my castle" His voice was oddly enthralling and robust, demanding her full attention, even though his tone was filled with malice, "I am sure you're wondering why you're still alive." His last comment was a leer. "Are you working for the Dawnguard... perhaps?"

"I wasn't spying for the Dawnguard sir, if that's what you're asking. I was told to come here." Arela tried to keep her voice steady, so they wouldn't know that she was terrified out of her mind, feeling the cold sweat dripping down her forehead under her Nightingale mask.

The Nord man cocked his eyebrow up a little in curiosity, "Who told you to come here then? I know of no one in my castle that would even talk to a mortal." His voice had turned severely bitter, "Do I smell a fabrication?"

"I was told by a vampire named Serana to come here; I helped her escape from Dim hollow Crypt. She entered the castle with my brother Enden, and she told me to wait outside the castle."

The once muffled whispers around the court stopped. The new apprehensive silence was deafening in Arela's mind; he was now coming to verdict to kill her or not. The other vampires quietly were now anxiously waiting for the response from the man in front of her.

Gradually the Nord vampire turned around to face a girl seated at the head table. Arela had noticed her sitting at the table before. But the girl's face had been too dark to identify; she had been looking down at her cup the whole time ignoring the events that were transpiring, but Arela had guessed it was Serana. Straining her eyes to make out who it was, Arela's suspicions were confirmed. It was Serana; she was sitting at the table pretending to be utterly shocked. Her porcelain skin seemed even paler and her eyes wide and bright with astonishment.

Arela couldn't deny Serana was a good actor. If Arela didn't already know it was a staged expression she would have believed it herself.

The Nord man's voice sliced through Arela's thoughts, "So, my daughter, do you feel the need to tell every mortal where we live?" He said in a very mocking tone.

But Arela was stunned; she couldn't even believe this man was Serana's father. It was believable they looked very similar, but it was still a shock to her, like her mind couldn't comprehend the fact. Serana's warmness rivaled his icy tone with such contrast it seemed their blood couldn't be mixed in the same bowl.

Arela was snapped back to reality by Serana who now had made her way over to Arela.

Serana shooed away Stalf and Rargal; who had been forcing Arela to stare at the feet of Serana's father and she felt an immediate overwhelming sensation of relief.

Stalf and Rargal scurried away like frightened rats, and took their spots at a table. It seemed that Serana had power over them; they feared her that was the only explanation; there was no other reason they would run from her.

Serana helped Arela to her feet, and made sure Arela could stably stand before turning to her father again.

"Don't patronize me Father..." Serana proclaimed in an irritated tone. "She saved me, and I told her to wait outside the castle awhile to make sure no one had followed us here."

Serana was outright lying to her father, but Arela was thankful for it; it was making the situation less painful than it could be.

"Don't snap at me for being ignorant of the situation, you could have mention such a detail when you arrived with that... other mortal." Serana's father said in a defensive tone, he was obviously becoming annoyed by his daughter and the situation.

"Well, I forgot. I was just overwhelmed by the _extremely _warm welcome home." Serana's statement was laced with sarcasm, but to Arela's surprise Serana's father ignored it.

His attention was fixed on Arela again, and the look he gave her made the hairs stand up on Arela's arms.

"For the assistance in my daughter's safe return you have my gratitude. Now tell me, what is your name?" He asked inquisitively; for the first time he didn't look genuinely irritated.

"My name is Arela. Who are you?"

"I am Harkon; Lord of this court. By now I trust my daughter has told you what we are?"

"Oh no, I was under the impression that you were a reclusive cannibal cult." Arela sarcastically stated, but Harkon didn't take the hint.

Arela shouldn't have expected a man who looks like a politician to get the sarcasm; they're too straight lace to laugh.

Serana was suppressing a cheeky grin, and out of the corner of Arela's eye she caught it. But their moment of silent laughter was broken by Serana's father.

"Not quite, though I could see how an outsider might arrive to that... conclusion. No, we are _vampires, _among the oldest and most powerful in Skyrim." Harkon stated it haughtily; stroking his beard in a proud yet nervous fashion before starting an apprehensive pace around Arela and Serana.

"For centuries we have lived here, far away from the cares of the world. But all that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most." When Harkon mentioned his wife Arela could tell by the way his fist clenched he was trying to contain his anger. Yet his face seem to display another emotion, to Arela it seemed like... shame, caused by the betrayal of the women he probably once loved.

"Am I going to receive a reward for helping in the return of your daughter?" Arela was starting to feel uncomfortable from his scrutinizing gaze. She saw no other reason for postponing the subject that she knew would come up.

"I was about to suggest that very thing. _Yes_, you most certainly deserve a reward." Harkon's voice sounded shrill in her ears. She wasn't sure if his tone had just been vivid or seductive... but Arela wasn't going to dwell on such a minute detail.

Arela's heart skipped a beat as he stopped pacing in front of her and took a few steps closer to invade her personal space, feeling the air sucked from around her, she kept a poker face.

She was forced herself not to move; even though every fiber of her being screamed for her to step back. It was a test to see if Arela would hold her ground. If she stepped back now Harkon would deem her weak because she lacked confidence and confidence was something Arela certainly had.

Harkon finally continued on his speech, his eyes were burning into her very skin, making it crawl wildly. "There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you_ my blood_." Arela recoiled at the mention of blood, but Harkon ignored the gesture and continued. "Take it and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach and _you will never fear death again_." His dark voice rang.

"And if I refuse your gift?"

"I was afraid you might suggest that possibility. You will become prey, like all mortals. I will... spare your life just this once, as I did for Serana's other mortal companion, but you will be banished from this hall." He crossed his arms over his chest in an aggravated style. "Perhaps you still need convincing?" Harkon's voice was becoming ridiculing. "Behold the power!"

Harkon gripped his chest, as if in extreme agony. Arela noticed black ooze crawling across his body and encase him. All of a sudden a monster burst from the once ooze covered Harkon. It was at least eight feet tall and had smooth pale blue skin with wings that were thick and tattered from age. An elaborate crown was atop its head and an aged red cape was dragging behind. He looked alien and strange, like the first time she saw an orc or Khajiit. His presence suddenly felt more _wrong_, he felt _too _powerful. She bit her tongue.

And yet, she didn't expect it. Staring up at the tall dooming majesty of the great creature, the word 'vampire' did not cross her mind.

"This is the power that I offer! Now make your _choice_!" Harkon's voice was harsh and demanding, as he slowly turned back into a human.

Arela noticed that he left out the details about all mortals dying from his bite, and how irate he would get if she decided to say not to accept his gift. Arela didn't doubt Serana's words; she trusted them more than Harkon's fancy speech.

Harkon's eyes contained a dark strength to them; a hungry shimmer that only one who had seen that look before could detect, as he waited for Arela's response.

Arela's head began to spin like a whirlwind, the stress was killing her and the overwhelming scent of blood wasn't helping, it was causing her to feel sick.

Arela was snapped back to the decision at hand, and unfortunately neither of the options were obvious. Arela felt as if she was being torn apart, both options were extremely dangerous and both had a high probability of... death.

Arela knew the best way to solve her problem was to started a debate in her head. She quickly weighs the pros and cons of becoming a vampire.

She had always preferred night over day. Arela had been raised believing that the shadows were her guardian: they shielded her and most of all protected her from unwanted eyes. That was how thieves had survived for centuries. The hardest part would be getting used to blood... Arela had hated blood for as long as she could remember, the thick deep color, the coppery scent of pain, she was unsure if she could ever get used to it.

Sadly being a vampire didn't sound too bad, and Arela was almost sold on Harkon's offer. But Arela hadn't considered the most important factor yet... her family and the Guild.

What would they think of her if they found out she had become a vampire? It seemed that Enden had not taken Harkon's gift, for Harkon had stated that he spared his mortal life. Arela knew that Enden loathed vampires. If she turned he wouldn't have an ounce of respect for her; he might even kill her, she didn't know.

There was no way Arela could have any connections with the Guild or her family if she chose vampirism... the only friend she would have left would be Serana.

Arela weighed her last option, staying mortal and dying quickly, but for some reason instantaneous death didn't sound too appealing.

If being a vampire meant being friends with Serana, Arela figured she could survive.

Arela stole a glance at Serana, her eyes only expressed acceptance; it was her sign. Well, it was good knowing Serana was going to support her choice no matter what.

Arela finally turned back to Harkon; he was beginning to look at her skeptically and impatiently.

She knew that she had to make a decision and fast. Arela took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I have made my choice... I will accept your gift and become a vampire."

"Good, I see you have made the _right _decision." Harkon insisted. "Be still." He took another step in and closed the gap between them. Arela knew what was going to happen next, and her heart was racing out of control.

Arela looked up at him, he was a few inches taller than her, and Arela instantly figured out were Serana got her height from. Arela hadn't stood so close to a man since she left the Guild and worst of all left... Cynric.

She saw a small sly smile creep onto Harkon's face. She guessed he could hear the beating in her chest quicken and he could sense her anticipation. Arela was trying to brace herself for the incoming waves of pain.

But Harkon broke her concentration.

"You're going to have to remove your hood," Harkon insisted.

Arela reached for her Nightingale hood and slowly removed it, revealing her dull gingery hair that shinned in the dim chandelier light and her stormy green eyes that burned with potential. She had light freckles on her nose and her cheeks seemed to glow a blushing pink.

"Well, what an unexpected turn of... events," Harkon responded in an oddly neutral tone, which caused Arela to blush fiercely.

Before she could even say a word, he grabbed her head in one swift motion and leaned it enough so her neck was exposed. Arela could feel his breath brush on her neck, it was colder than ice.

Harkon quickly dug his fangs into her skin, and Arela could feel the icy sting of his bite. Struggling feebly under his grip, Arela tried to escape the burning pain that surged into her neck. She could feel the blood leaving her body, as Harkon drank from her in an animalistic manner. And then she felt soothed, tranquilized and dizzy.

It seemed like a period of time but it could have been moments when he released her.

Arela felt her sense of balance sway, and she staggered to the right. She was able to grab hold of the table edge as she tried to sturdy herself, but finding her arms too weak to support her she crashed to the floor.

The burning returned in glory and fire, kindling away at her organs and muscles and in her very mind, the fire raged in her eyes as the world warped around her, turning and turning whilst her body died.

"What did you do to me!?" She screamed and doubled over in pain.

Arela saw Harkon walk over to her, his expression mirrored one of disappointment. But his silence spoke louder than any words. His expression spoke only one word...death.

Arela was going to die... here on this blood stained floor, in agonizing pain, alone.

No one even knew she was here, and now she was going to go the Evergloam, Nocturnal's dark realm, where she would wait for Brynjolf and Karliah to join her.

After surviving dragons, daedra, and Mercer; she was going to die from the bite of a vampire; it just seemed so... shameful.

Serana dived to Arela's side. "No... I shouldn't have allowed my father to... poison you." Serana's expression was one of sorrow; her eyes were clouded with regret. She gripped Arela's hand tightly in distress.

But Arela's brain was driving her into a type of a coma, trying to protect her mind from the intensity.

A torturous burning sensation that was all she remembered before an unrelenting harrowed sleep fell upon her.

The world faded into darkness as Arela sunk into comforting familiarity.


	4. A Night She Can't Remember

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I just want to thank all my followers; you guys truly mean the world to me! Thanks for all the reviews and the support. I would like to make a special thanks to Blue, she has been so helpful with this story.**

**Also I just wanted to say that chapters will be coming out just a little slower now, not by much; I wanted to make it my goal to have one chapter every five days. That gives you guys have enough time to read and review my chapters; I don't want anyone to fall behind. Here we go...**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series or Bethesda so I'm just giving them the credit they deserve, but Arela and Enden are my characters.**

* * *

_**~Skillet, Monster**_

_**I feel it deep within,  
It's just beneath the skin  
I must confess that I feel like a monster  
I hate what I've become  
The nightmare's just begun  
I must confess that I feel like a monster**_

* * *

Her eyes jutted open and for the second time in one day Arela woke up with no recollection of where she was.

Again she was lying on a grimy floor next to a pile of rubble, she felt the grit under her nails and the ache behind her eyes but at least Arela wasn't surrounded by Skooma addicts this time.

Arela's sore eyes roamed the room; her vision was slightly blurry at first. After blinking repeatedly her eyes became clearer and everything began to seem brighter and more vivid, stretching before her.

Her eyes saw with a blinding clarity that before she couldn't have even managed to explain. It was painful as the colors of the world screamed at her, announcing their existence and the details of a crack in the stone floors made their way into her acknowledgment.

Her eyes were like that of a newborn, they felt new and unused, even the dullest of details seemed thrilling and interesting.

The room was a cathedral, with a few windows exposing the room to an amount of fragmented, scattered light, the dust floated through the murky room and settled on mighty and frightening statues made of worn stone and nightmares.

The light touched the room in frightening ways, it decorated the room, drawing attention to the grotesque shapes of the unmoving stone gargoyles that littered it, the dried blood that stained it and the shadows that seemed darker.

She saw fleshless corpses and she almost wished she had been blind folded, or left in the dark; the monstrosity that lay near her toes, beneath the might of the statues, didn't frighten her, but disgusted her. The ivory bones crumbled when she moved away, some were old and some were fresh, but they were picked clean by their predators. Arela bit her lip, to calm the nervous tension pulsing inside her.

Arela knew she was different now; she wondered if anything about her was the same anymore, the way she moved when she stood was silky and catlike, the feeling of stone felt colder and rougher when she ran her fingers along it to test its texture, and her eyes…

Darting her head around the room, she found herself a murky puddle of water, kneeling down she looked and looked, but the more she looked, the less she could recognize.

Her eyes frightened her the most.

She looked like a painting done by a madman, her skin was the color of the bones at her feet, and her eyes the color of the bloodstains, and the faintest of life could be detected on her cheeks in a mild tone of pink.

Her eyes flickered in the reflection, flecked with orange and yellow; her sensational new vision was gifted beside burning eyes.

Pale blue littered up her white neck, veins dancing under her translucent skin, caressing the curves in her throat. She put her hand to her small neck in shock.

She was so frightening to look at, yet her fingers glided across her skin like silk, it was soft and faultless, and she pulled her fingertips to her face and tested her new features.

Arela pulled her darker lips back, revealing a feature she expected but still felt a tremble run through her when she saw, pearly teeth, and much sharper than before. And two fangs on either side of her top row stretched down in dangerous sharp spikes.

Running her tongue along her new mouth, she tastes the metallic copper of her own blood and shuddered.

Everything seemed foreign to Arela... The face she had once been accustoming to seeing and had loved had been dismantled, and reconstructed into something that somewhat resembled her.

She felt like it was a dream, that the face she saw was not her own, the unfamiliarity of it was overwhelming; she was like a beautiful animal – a predator. But in her now brightly burning eyes and at the kiss of her lips, she could still see the burning passion she always kept in mind.

Arela turned away, and noticed that the empty room was now filled with another singular presence. Harkon stood at the end of the cathedral with his arms glued together in angst and his eyes piercing hers.

Arela's gaze was called to a shrine next to Harkon, where blood flowed from it like water, endlessly pouring into a pool. There was a foul face carved into the shrine, the daedric lord of domination, the father of immortals.

Arela forced her stiff legs to move cautiously over toward Harkon, and the foul shrine of Molag Bal.

"Awake at last, good. I would have been quite... disappointed if you wouldn't have survived. I would have lost a new valuable asset." Harkon remarked elatedly. "The power is growing within you, and now you must now learn to wield it." He said calmly, but his eyes glowed with anticipation.

"What happened?" She looked up at the towering man, "How did I get here?" Her voice was shaky but it stood firmly on her lips.

"My blood is potent. At first, the body is overwhelmed by it. After my bite you collapsed on the floor and fell into a slumber. Now you flesh has acclimated to the new blood that course through your veins. I assure you, no harm was done..." His smirk was twisted between wicked and... a slightly provocative smile. "In truth your strength surprises me no mortal has been able to survive my... embrace."

Arela felt passionate rage throb through her, she knew that death was close by when she accepted his gift, but she never knew she was at its doorsteps. Her white fists clenched and she attempted deep breaths, one word out of turn might cost her the rest of eternity in a life not worth breathing for.

"Then how did you turn the other vampires in your court?" Arela quietly and cautiously asked, treading the waters of the conversation, testing carefully if the past was a border not to cross.

"The senior members were not turned by me, they were turned by my wife..._Valerica_" he spat the name out as if it were distasteful. "The younger members were turned by other members of the court or I turned them, but they were all weak blooded vampires, wishing for me to award my gift to them. Weak blooded vampires aren't overwhelmed by my blood." There was a small pause, and Harkon's eyes became like chips of golden ice; his expression was a cold sorrow.

"I have tried to turn a few mortals in the past... but their mortal forms were too weak. They could not withstand my strength... but you... you are curious indeed."

"Well I guess that makes me one of a kind." She implied giving him an arrogant grin.

"Perhaps, keep your thoughts in balance, however. I am the lord of this court and you will do well to remember, or lessons shall be taught of obedience." His voice was stern and hard, brutality bled through every syllable.

She stammered on her words, not wanting to appear weak and pitiful but the vampire lord had an iron face to speak and iron fists to strangle out any word said against him. He was not to be trifled with, but she wanted a firm ground. But before she even knew what her capabilities were, she knew it was best to stay silent.

"As to answer your other question we are at the shrine to the mighty daedric prince Molag Bal, he is father to all our kind. Our power is a blessing from him. It is he who first bestowed the gift of the ancient blood upon me."

"You made a pact with Molag Bal?" Arela asked in an inquisitive tone.

Arela herself had made a pact with a daedra, taking a promise with a daedric lord is not shallow waters of a wading pool, it is a curse and a gift in the same package and one who receives it is always equal to what will be served. Nocturnal, her lady luck, made a pact with her and two others as Nightingales so that they will receive her favor, the price to pay in return was not much, in this life.

Harkon shot Arela back to reality, with his powerful throat that could rival even a dragon's.

"In an age long forgotten to history, I ruled as a mighty king, my domain was vast, my riches endless, and my power infinite. And yet as my mortal life neared an end I faced a seemingly invincible enemy – my own mortality."

Arela had a hard time looking at him and considering him old by any standards. He was older than her of course, but he didn't look old enough to be concerned close to death. Unless people died younger back then, but Arela thought it was highly unlikely.

"I pledged myself to Molag Bal and in his name I sacrificed a thousand innocents. In reward, he gave everlasting life to me, my wife, and my daughter. And so I have defeated mortality itself." He declared condescendingly.

_This guy has major ego issues. _For some strange reason Arela was finding herself more or less... attracted to his cockiness. His high faith in his abilities was to her almost comforting.

Even if sometimes, he had a bad temperament. Harkon reminded her of Mercer, the one man that had taught her everything about being a thief. Yes, he had been a crude mentor, but it had been precisely what Arela had needed to motivate her. Mercer had known how to push Arela to her limits, and it had been as simple as praise.

Arela feed off the words and encouragement of others, and especially those who had power. Arela was intrigued, how powerful was Harkon?

"I'm curious... how did you become a king?" the question was one that tempted her all along, one she could not resist.

"That's a story for another day, perhaps... Now, are you done asking question so we can move on?" Harkon said, his voice itching with irritation.

"Well...I suppose" She said softly, she was doubtful; Harkon intended to teach her of her new powers but she was intimidated.

"With my guidance you will become a deadly instrument, striking terror into the hearts of mortals wherever you tread." His voice kept its dark, sadistic tone. But Arela was still caught on one word, _instrument_.

Arela wasn't sure at first to respond, how to his claim, she knew that she was far from a tool. And if she had to she would prove him wrong. Before Arela could stop herself she blurted out her itching question.

"Instrument isn't a befitting word for me." Arela stated righteously. She wasn't an instrument to anyone, not even a Lord of a castle.

"I will be the judge of that." Harkon sneered coldly. "Now, listen to my words and do exactly as I instruct." He said impatiently. "The true form of the ancient blood is found in the form of the Vampire Lord. Assume the mantle of the Vampire Lord and we will continue."

She couldn't hide her dreaded the thought of transforming into a vicious monster in front of Harkon. Arela looked down at her feet in a skittish habit. "I... I don't how to transform... I... I.." Her stammer was very slow as she was trying to organize her thoughts. She felt naked and ashamed before him, helpless.

Harkon raised his hand in an intolerant manner. Arela couldn't break her stare away from his glimmering yellow eyes, they had her so transfixed she felt as if she was frozen solid.

Harkon frowned, "I will teach you the basics... I expected you to able to pick lessons faster..."

Arela smiled, flashing her new teeth, "I can be an observant learner."

* * *

After what seemed like an hour, Arela had gained some coordination in her new 'body', Harkon had taught her the basics about the Vampire Lord, but the power of the Vampire Lord hadn't grown on Arela.

Actually she despised this new form, it left Arela feeling like a monstrosity from a child's book. She had never been so delighted in her life to be herself again when she was able to revert back to her previous form.

But being a vampire was... sensational. Arela had superhuman strength; exceptional speed and agility enhanced well passed any mortal. Her other senses were heightened beyond Arela's own comprehension; she could only imagine what it would be like once she could control herself as a vampire lord! Just the few moments she spent in the blue grey body she felt the power equal to a daedric lord run through her.

She could hear a water droplet hit the floor a hundred feet away. Her sense of smell was so keen she could decipher multiple smells apart, it was almost maddening.

It was disappointing to even think Arela thought her skills were masterful before. But Harkon's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Do you not feel the raw power the vampire has offered you?" He exclaimed as if trying to promote its abilities to her.

"Well yes... I do." Arela uttered, trying desperately not to insult him.

"Now that our lesson is complete I would advise that you met the members of my court they are... eager to meet you I'm sure." Harkon was now staring into the distance as if lost in thought.

"You should report to Garan or Feran Sadri from now on until one of them assures me that you are ready for your first true assessment."

There was a short pause. "Oh I must mention that we are Volkihar vampires; we are very different from the weak blooded vampires. Some of the members of the court have... rare talents. You might discover soon that you have inherited this trait. Many of my senior members have gifts, as do I. Inform me if you discover you do possess a... talent."

"What's your ability then?"

Harkon stiffened at the question before a cloud of anger crossed his face. "My gift is my own, I trust you'll soon learn to not ask so many questions." Harkon exclaimed on rage before turning away and making his way out of the chapel styled room.

"Wait...I'm sorry, but I have one last question!" Arela yelled across the chapel before he left. Harkon spun around. His brilliant golden gaze was resting on her with a demanding demeanor.

"Why did you let me live, I know that mortals don't normally survive this. So why me?" Arela inquired softly, she was almost shaking in fear that Harkon would kill her now.

Harkon look at her with an insightful gaze, as if trying to unlock a puzzle. "It's Because of your blood." He stated simply before exiting the chapel leaving Arela with her swirling thoughts, and a small amount of terror in the pit of her stomach.


	5. Covered In Nightshades

**[A/N]: Hey guys, this chapter is a long one. It was a struggle to start this chapter for me, but once I got moving I think it turned out pretty good. This chapter is just needed to push the story onto more important issues. I would love it if you would read and review (even you lurkers who ever you are), just to give me a report on how I'm doing so far. Thank you and here we go...**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't have rights to the Elder Scroll Series that is the expertise of Bethesda, but Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Fun, Carry On**_

_**Though I've never been through hell like that  
I've closed enough windows to know you can never look back  
If you're lost and alone  
Or you're sinking like a stone.  
Carry on.  
May your past be the sound  
Of your feet upon the ground.  
Carry on.**_

* * *

Arela made her way out of the chapel and down a small flight of stairs. She was on her own, in this unfamiliar castle, and nothing struck fear in her heart more than that.

Harkon's words had left her mind in turmoil; she was fully unsure of the thoughts behind them and the plots that might follow, nervously, her fingers dug into her sweaty palms as she walked with her tongue to her cheek.

Her blood wasn't different from any other morals. Or so she had thought. What in her blood could have possibly been different that would have caused a Lord of Vampirism to let her live? Could it have been her dovahsos – dragon-blood. No, she doubt Harkon would have been able to detect that. Or could he?

Arela pushed the thoughts aside and focused on scanning the hallway for anyone she knew - specifically Serana. Arela was disheartened when she saw no one, except one elf with blue grey skin and a coppery well-kept beard.

He was immersed in a worn book and his expression was unwelcome and submerged.

Arela swallowed. Unsure of his disposition, she took a step forward cautiously, her her eyes still fixated on the Dunmer, as his hands that flipped through ancient pages.

She felt a wave of relief when he looked her way, and his expression was not displeased, but mildly interested.

"You are new here, are you not? Well if you like schemes and scandal you have come to the right place. I saw a great amount of political maneuvering in my time with House Dres, I was tired of it then and I'm tired of it now. My personal opinion it has only gotten worse here." The dark elf's voice expressed only exhaustion

"What do you mean there is a large amount of political maneuvering here? What could they possibly be fighting over?" Arela couldn't refrain asking her question any longer.

"Most people here are fighting over Lord Harkon's throne, especially Orthjolf and Vingalmo; they are Harkon's main advisers. I am Harkon's senior member and one of his advises, he trusts me with many of his secrets... and some he can't hide from me."

The way he applied his last sentence made her skin crawl.

"What do you mean he can't hide his secrets from you...?"

"I'm guessing our Lord told you that some of us have obtained blessings... well I have the gift of precognition... or in other words I see, feel and hear glimpses of the future. Lord Harkon has used my gift as a way to keep Orthjolf and Vingalmo at bay; I know most of their moves before they do."

"That's impressive... Do most members have gifts?" Arela was pleased enough to be having a conversation with a senior member.

"No, only Harkon, Lady Serana, and... Lady Valerica. They have gifts; usually pure blooded vampires are bestowed special abilities. It's rare for members, like me, to gain powers." The Dark Elf's attention shifted back to his book, as if Arela's presence was a slight annoyance to him.

Arela examined the Dark Elf, as if sizing up a mark. There was a plethora of information she could tell from a person, just by looking at the details.

It took only moments to determine that he was a seasoned mage, the familiar scent of parchment was like perfume on his skin, and he spoke with great intelligence and experience. However, any wise man would know to defend them, but this elf carried no weapons plain to the eye.

He spoke with authority, like he had never been refused. His status in the court as an adviser depicted that the man had a way with actions as well as words, he was indeed very intelligent, if not, mildly arrogant. He reminded her of the red headed Nord, Brynjolf, back in the Thieves Guild, a strong leader, her second in command.

Arela knew she had to befriend this vampire or else she would be losing a formidable future ally.

"Hey, I don't think I ever caught your name." Arela was curious who this Dark elf was; it wasn't everyday she encountered someone who could see into the future.

"My name is Garan Marethi, senior member of the court." He even bowed, which seemed too formal, but Arela figured she was part of a court now and formality was a way of life here.

"It's nice to meet you, Garan. Lord Harkon told me I was supposed to report to you or some guy named... Feran Sadri; I think. But I was wondering if you could show me around the castle now? I need a tour guide or I'm sure to get lost."

Arela smiled innocently at him, her new eyes flashing, which had solidified his reluctant agreement to show her around.

* * *

Two days had passed since Arela had become a vampire and she couldn't quite complain about her new life at the castle, it was... intriguing.

Orthjolf had been trying to get her to join his personal vendetta against Lord Harkon.

Arela had nearly accepted; Orthjolf had a powerful charm, his smile could charm snakes and his voice could purely cure any unhappy soul of their depression.

Arela felt like he had yanked her heart clean from her chest, and was squeezing it causing Arela to lose her breath and for her heart beat to quicken.

But Garan had thankfully told him to stop corrupting the innocent new member.

Arela somehow knew that was not the last time Orthjolf would mention the subject. He seemed like the persistent type, because he knew he could win everyone over in time.

Garan informed her that she was going to be a much desired object by many power seekers on the court; solely because she was the only mortal Harkon has turned successfully.

"They all understand you have a bond with Lord Harkon, and that makes you a target." Garan had bluntly stated.

Arela couldn't have helped but gulp; she really didn't want to be a walking target. It was bad enough not knowing anyone here, and to even think vampires would already be plotting to kill her was dreadful.

Arela really missed Enden already; the security he brought was what made her nostalgic.

He had always watched Arela's back with a ferocity that only the most caring siblings contained. The thought of him being at Fort Dawnguard by himself made her cold to the core, for all she knew Isran was torturing him for information on her location.

At least Garan had taken her under his wing, fending off members like Orthjolf who would take advantage of Arela's ignorance of politics.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind, and continued searching the library.

Since Garan had showed Arela the castle she had been drawn to the extensive library that Harkon had collected.

Many of the books here had been lost in the tides of time, and by the looks of them they hadn't been touched in hundreds of years.

Arela was searching through books of ancient kings and queens of Skyrim. This place contained books not even the College of Winterhold would have in there plethora of stories and history books.

Arela had been ripping out pages of the books that might have led to some treasure or ancient tombs filled with gold.

The Guild could use the information to makes some extra money, why not? Like Harkon was really going to miss these few pages? Arela highly doubted that, these books had even been touched in the last hundred years.

"So I'm not the only one in this castle that takes an interest in books?" Arela whipped around to be met with Serana's gaze.

Quickly Arela slipped the torn pages into her pockets on her Nightingale armor.

"I have always loved to read. I suppose it's ironic, most thieves are illiterate. I was ridiculed in the Thieves Guild for reading books when I should have been practicing my lock picking." Arela said mockingly.

Serana leaned against the wall to her left side, as if to relax the mood.

"I'm a bit curious..." Serana exclaimed.

"Yes?" Arela questioned.

"Why you decided to become a vampire, most 'vampire hunters' would have chosen death by my father's hand. But you didn't, so why become a vampire?"

Arela frowned; she hasn't really wanted to tell Serana that, her gut had told her to be a vampire. But she was going to have to try and explain her reasoning to Serana.

"Because becoming a vampire meant there was a slim chance at survival. It wasn't indefinite death, but it was a high probability." Arela cleared her throat before continuing.

"And... It felt the like the best option. Maybe it was just instinct or maybe it was Nocturnal guiding me to the light at the end of the tunnel. I knew that my family probably would never accept me for choosing vampirism, but I'm alive and I can fight another day and possible seek redemption."

Arela wasn't going to mention that she was wishing already to make amends with the Guild, if it was possible.

Serana smirked, "Well, it's good to see you alive for sure. I truly believed that my father had killed you, like the many mortals before you. I'm even more fascinated by the fact of why my father let you live. But it's great that he did. Now I'll have someone to talk to other than Fura and Hestla who only talk about how much they love my father. They frequently say I'm lucky to have such an accomplished man to call a father." Serana chuckled and Arela couldn't help but follow suit.

"That's creepy; do they love your father or something?" Arela asked through light and almost forced laughter.

"Everyone on the court claims to, though they're all back stabbing hypocrites." Serana's eyes were heavy.

"But I think Hestla just holds godly esteem for my father, but Fura..." Serana let out a small shiver. "Let's just say she desires my father. You particularly need to be careful of her; I could only imagine she is envious of you."

"Well it seems I've made a vast amount of enemies here already..." Arela couldn't hide the insecure doubt in her voice.

"Don't worry it's normal, everyone has enemies here, but as long as you have strong friends you should be fine. It is Mephala's heaven here; secrets and evil plots are abundant in this castle." Serana gave her a grim smile.

"Well, it's good to know I have someone I can trust not to stab me in the back."

"You can trust me, I stay out of the petty squabbles and political schemes around this castle, and they will only end up getting you killed." Serana grinned.

"That's exactly what Garan told me. He has been one of the biggest helps since I turned. Sadly I'm not politically savvy, so he has been protecting me from the bombardment of offers to betray your father."

Serana sighed, "Orthjolf and Vingalmo are idiots to think they stand a chance against my father. They have been trying to overthrow him since the moment they became his advisers a few thousand years ago. But I'm pretty such that's the reason my mother decided to turn them."

"My mother was smart she knew those two were going to make my father's life hell." Serana smirked, but her smirk faded away and was replaced with a sad expression. "I miss my mother... only the divines know where she is now."

"It kind of seems like your parents don't get along." Arela said quietly.

"No they never really did... and it only got worse since we became vampires. They both are power hungry and driven, just different motives."

Arela couldn't even imagine how Serana felt about her quarreling and dysfunctional family. Particularly knowing her mother was in hiding from them. It almost made Arela happy she never knew who her parents were as a child.

"Do you want to go feast before many of the other members decide too?" Arela had been ignoring the burning in her throat for hours.

But now she thought it appropriate to ask Serana if she wanted to feast with her. It would be nice to have some familiar company. Truly Arela was scared that she would get stuck sitting next to a stranger, and she was terrified of facing her biggest fear... blood.

"Yes, let's get there before we are forced to sit next to someone like Feran Sadri, he tends to brag the whole meal about burning entire villages full of children. Talk like that usually kills my appetite." Serana grinned. Arela couldn't help but love Serana's witty and morbid sense of humor. That was all Arela needed to survive in a place like this.

They slowly made there way to the dining hall, and to their dismay they noticed other members had decided to eat early as well.

Arela clung to Serana tightly because she didn't recognize anyone but Stalf and Fura, and Arela wasn't about to greet them. Serana scanned for a seat before leading her to one next to a Nord woman with golden hair and bright red robes.

"Lady Serana it's good to see you again," the woman in the red robes remarked.

"It's good to see you again too Hestla, how have you been since I left?"

"Great, I work the forge now." Hestla's gaze lingered on Arela though.

"So you are our new member; I was here when you were turned. I thought you weren't going to make it. But it is good to see I was wrong."

Hestla gave Arela a small smile, "What is your name again?"

"Arela." She stated proudly, not want to seem weak by any means.

Hestla smiled and turned back to her meal without another word.

"That went better than I thought it would." Serana whispered to her. "Here have a drink you must be thirsty."

Serana carefully handed Arela a cup of blood.

Normally Arela would have recoiled just at the smell alone. But Arela found herself staring into the cup with curiosity, as the coppery smell of blood wafted up to her nose.

The scent of blood caused Arela's throat to throb and ache like arcane fire, blazing its way into her brain.

"Drink it; it will quench your thirst." Serana insisted.

Arela cautiously took a small sip, and the burning almost ceased as the red crimson blood spilled down her throat, sliding down to cool the burning.

"I wasn't expecting it to taste like a mix of honey and wine." Arela exclaimed in shock. How could blood taste so sweet? Especially when it inflicted so much sickness on her?

Serana gave Arela a low chuckle. "Well, all vampires love the taste of blood; it's a part of changing over."

But Arela couldn't focus as goose bumps shot up around her body; she shakes the feeling of being watched.

Arela's eyes spotted vampires on the other side of the room, Stalf and his companion were shooting her looks that were so fiery Arela was surprised she hadn't just burst into flames.

She couldn't understand where their spontaneous hostility came from.

Arela hadn't talk to Stalf since she had been turned; she hoped he hadn't taken her desperate insults to heart. Arela had no clue, the identity of the lady standing next to him is.

Arela leaned over and asked Serana, "Do you know who the girl standing next to Stalf is?"

"Yeah, that's Salonia; watch out for her she is thought to be having a 'relationship' with Vingalmo, so I've heard from Garan. Vingalmo tends to tie down his follows with rewards... or he entices them in other ways. He isn't too different from my father; they try and reward their favorites. Anyways she and Stalf are very close friends."

"Then why do they keep giving me such murderous looks?" Arela's voice sounded weak for reasons unknown to even her.

"It's just because you're probably ranked higher than them already, just because you're the only mortal that has survived being turned by my father."

Arela coughed lightly before saying, "It seems your father has made me a good amount of enemies."

Serana chuckled, "He tends to do that, but don't worry." Serana worry smiled.

For the first time since arriving here Arela felt the tension and stress of trying to fit in fading away... as long as Serana's here Arela thought she will always have a friend. But the carefree atmosphere didn't last long...

* * *

They had sat there for what seemed like five minutes, but in truth hours had passed. They had been chatting and exchanging stories.

Serana's stories about her childhood were amusing.

She told Arela the about great places she could explore in the castle, like the old ship yard on the west side of the castle where the undercroft was.

The undercroft was the only way to the courtyard now; Serana also had mentioned if she was looking for a thrill that the ruined spire was a formidable climbing challenge.

But time had slipped away from them because before long new members were flooding into the dining hall.

A Dunmer man gave Arela a small nod and took a seat next to her. He had jet black hair that was slicked backed, and a very well kept mustache.

But the way Serana stiffened at his approach made Arela shift uncomfortably.

"Who is he?" Arela whispered in a voice almost unaudited.

"That's Feran Sadri, I'm sorry but he is repulsive, maybe we should leave?" Serana said with a hint of anger in her remark.

"Don't worry we can leave in a minute, but finish your story about how beautiful the courtyard was." It was funny how she was trying to calm Serana. Arela was the one who didn't know anyone here.

Before long Feran was talking with Orthjolf about a mission he went on recently, and Arela couldn't help but be sucked into his adventure.

"Oh, my reconnaissance mission went well, spying on Fort Dawnguard was... entertaining. It seems we are not the only vampires in a war with them. But the other groups were too weak to actually do significant damage to them, it was a disappointment. I was hoping to see more of those Dawnguard scum die." He said maliciously, but the comment only put Arela on edge...

"I was hoping to take that mission, but our Lord needed me for some sort of meeting that Vingalmo wasn't kind enough to attend." Orthjolf scoffed with pride hidden in his words.

Feran pretended that he missed the comment completely and continued on his rant about his mission.

"Yes, you remember that mortal that was banished from the court a few days ago? I saw him; he was making his way back to Fort Dawnguard. I wished I could have ripped his throat out... after offending Lord Harkon like that, he deserves to die. I was going to kill him but other members of the Dawnguard had noticed his arrival and it would have compromised the mission and I doubt I would have made it out alive. So I pick some ingredients for alchemy instead."

Feran couldn't keep a smile off his face. Arela's body was froze like a statue... how dare he talk about her brother that way... it was the only thought that was running through Arela's mind.

Serana had picked up on her state of distress. Serana's hand snaked over to Arela's and she grasped it with a tender reassurance.

Serana's hand was icy but it made Arela's skin tingle.

Arela had heard enough, she stood up and let go of Serana's hand, which her body screamed in disapproval, but she wasn't going to let Feran's comment slide. The chair was pushed back and made a loud scraping noise on the floor.

Feran finally acknowledged her existence since sitting down.

Their eyes locked, and he detected Arela's furious expression.

"That was my brother you were talking about killing!" Her roar shook the ground slightly, making the chandelier sway and dust showed over the tables. Every member had stopped what they were doing and was watching the events of the evening unfold in front of them.

Feran didn't seem intimidated, "Oh well, how unfortunate for you, new blood, you seem to be under the false pretenses that I care about your opinion." His comment only enraged her far beyond what Arela should have allowed.

In a flash she grabbed him by the neck and pushed him toward the middle of the court. "Let's settle this with a good old fight. No weapons... or magic."

Feran laughed, "Do you really believe that we are in some tavern, I'm not brawling with you, and if you want a fight it will be to the death." His voice had shifted from mocking to a low growl.

Serana stepped in front of Arela, "Don't do this Arela you will regret this, my father won't approve of unauthorized killings."

"I'm not trying to be rude Serana, but I have to protect my brother's reputation, he would want this..." Arela exclaimed with overwhelming strength in her voice. "So please, step aside."

Reluctantly Serana withdrew herself from the fighting ground, but she gave Arela a denouncing look.

Without warning, Feran threw himself at Arela, and she couldn't react quickly enough. She was slammed on the ground straight on her back.

Arela felt the air being forced from her lungs as her back connected with the floor, it wasn't long before her head was smashed into the tile.

All Arela saw was spindles of light across her vision. His foot was pressing on Arela's stomach trapping her against the floor. Now there was no hope of an escape.

Feran was standing over Arela again with an ebony dagger in his hand, "They don't make vampires like they use to."

His laugh was harsh and she realized he was going to kill her. He rolled the dagger in his hands. Arela had no choice she was going to have to resort to her last line of defense... She took in a large gulp of breath... and let the words of power free...

"FUS... RO!"

Arela's thu'um split the silence with a sound that resembled a clap of thunder. The ground shook violently and the air seemed to be in turmoil as fragments from the stone ceiling showered the court floor.

Feran was launched across the whole dining hall. He hit the planter pots underneath the stairs smashing it to pieces as he landed on it.

Dirt flew everywhere, and planter pot pieces showered across the floor. Many members of the court threw themselves on the floor in fear that her Shout would kill them.

Feran was not died because she hadn't intended to use the full strength of her Voice. If she had used the last word he would surely be dead, but he was struggling to untangle himself from the dirt, nightshades and shards of terracotta that were covering his body.

_"What in the name of Molag Bal was that noise!?"_

Arela turned around to see Lord Harkon standing on the balcony above the court. But his eyes were locked on her with a wrathful expression and Arela came to the realization that she was in more trouble than she could possibly imagine...


	6. The Punishment of a Lifetime?

**[A/N]: Hey guys, now the storyline is really going to start moving. I wanted to get this chapter out sooner, but life just got a little complicated near the end of the week. Still, I got this chapter out in time, so here we go...**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scroll Series that is Bethseda's gig not mine, I'm just giving them the credit they deserve. But Arela and Enden are my characters and I call all rights to them.**

* * *

_**~OneRepublic, Too Late to Apologize**_

_**I'm holdin' on your rope,  
Got me ten feet off the ground.  
And I'm hearin' what you say,  
But I just can't make a sound.  
You tell me that you need me,  
Then you go and cut me down...**_

* * *

Arela stood in the chambers of Lord Harkon, waiting nervously for his command. Her fingers were clenched to her palms in her anticipation.

Although she felt anxious, the room was comforting and welcoming; the fire in his chamber remained lit through all hours of the day, allowing the light to dance upon the walls playing with the colors of the flames.

However, the welcome tone of the room could not bring attention away from the décor, a cage sunk into the floor, with the stench of rot lacing the iron bars; tools of a malicious nature sat nearby on a dark cherry wooden bench, freshly cleaned.

Arela swallowed her breath looking at the shine of metal on the tools; they had done services she couldn't even possibly begin to understand or want to imagine.

Arela's attention was brought back to Harkon who paced frantically by the fireplace, casting a large shadow across the room like a haunting ghost.

Arela felt the hairs stand on end when Feran looked her way from a chair, his eyes were cold and daunting, and with his face darkened from the crusty dirt of the nightshade planter he was slammed into only previously.

She could feel rage radiating off him in a heavy aura. She could only imagine the thoughts he was processing… the sort of danger she would be in if they were alone...

But her observations were broken by Harkon who had stopped his frantic pacing and turned to Feran.

"Now, remind me, what exactly happened?" His face was to the floor with his eyes skewed shut, long pale fingers rubbed at his temple in circular motions, cooling the flames that probably raged beneath them.

"She shouted at me in dragons tongue!" Feran explained, "I was thrown across the room! I could have died!" His yellow eyes burned into Arela's with a hateful passion.

But Harkon ignored Feran's complaint; Arela saw his eyebrow cock up in curiosity as he turned his glowing yellow eyes to her.

"So, you can shout like the ancient Nord heroes? I would doubt your ability, if I hadn't heard the thunderous roar from here." He exclaimed in fascination. "You failed to mention your power with your Voice before." He said with a dark tone.

"Well... I didn't think it was relevant, at the time. But yes, I can Shout, I'm Dragonborn..." Arela muttered.

"Dragonborn... interesting, your body holds the soul of a dragon? I have trouble believing such a thing." Harkon's voice expressed his doubt.

"You doubt me? I have absorbed the souls of dragons before." Arela said with flowing strength in her voice.

Harkon scratched his beard immersed in thought, but his eyes, the very eyes that glowed like the moon never left Arela.

"Feran, leave us. I must have a private discussion with our newest member." Harkon said, making sure his voice left no room for argument.

Feran's eyes flew wide in outrage, "So she is not to be punished!?" He looked at her in almost horror, and she knew he would remember this and haunt her relentlessly for it.

"Did I say she wasn't? No, of course she is, but that doesn't involve you Feran, so leave us."

Harkon stated, with a harsh tone that only expressed his irritation at Feran's disobedience.

Feran left and slammed the door behind him, which only exemplified his rage.

Anxious, Arela looked at the door he left in, wondering what forces would be applied once he left, no matter the punishment Harkon gave her, Feran would certainly intensify it.

Then Arela began to panic desperately. Those freshly cleaned tools… were they to wipe her blood off the floor? Were she to be killed now? Was Harkon kill her slowly and painfully? He would not perform an execution publicly to his court, surely? She was at least pleased to be away from humiliation when she died, although the chance of rescue was slimmer.

Harkon turned his back on her and was staring into the fireplace. He was unnaturally quiet which only made Arela's stomach do flips in her abdomen.

Finally Harkon shattered the thick silence, "Did you wish to keep your strength with the Thu'um a secret from me?" He hadn't taken his iridescent eyes off the flickering flames, and that made her feel more and more nervous by the moment.

Arela didn't know how to explain how she felt about her _dovahsos– _dragon blood. To her it was more of a curse than anything else. Being pulled apart from the norm was something thieves despised, because their goal is to blend in with the crowd.

And honestly Arela had only discovered it by accident, and she didn't want to indulge Harkon with the details.

But she understood he expected an answer and Arela could tell he was becoming impatient, as he so often did. So she ultimately decided that she was going to rationalize and give him a decent response.

"Well... I hate being... different, I wanted a fresh start here, but that didn't seem to work out so well."

Harkon turned to look at her, his eyes were searching her face, attempting to break past barricades of protection her mind had set up in her eyes, but while he stared and stared, she couldn't help but look anywhere else. His eyes were haunting, beautiful and dangerous, glowing like the moon at midnight.

He was unlike everyone else. He was silent and reserved, his eyes showed honor and brilliance with a heavy shadow lurking, dripping with corrupted beauty.

However, as he stared and stared, he only realized how his plot was pointless, and Arela felt relieved almost. Only one had managed to read her thoughts through her eyes, and they currently resided beneath the ice of a lake to be chewed on by the Slaughterfish.

Harkon finally snapped Arela back to reality with his critical tone. "But your Voice is power and power is something I can use." He said; giving her the faintest hint of a smirk. "You will definitely be an advantage to have on this court..." It was as if he was thinking out loud. So for her own safety Arela let him continue on his rant.

"You become more of an intrigue to me with every passing second... You support me in this court and I will make sure you are rewarded, once you have proven yourself. I have a task for you to complete."

Arela's expression was puzzled to say the least, "I thought you were to punish me?"

"I considered. But the task I give you shall provide adequate punishment." He said quietly but his voice was still quite powerful. "Although, I must ask, why did you attempt to kill a member of my court?"

"He was talking disrespectfully about my brother; I wasn't going to tolerate it. We may have been thieves, but that doesn't mean we don't deserve respect." Arela sharply stated.

Her voice was laced with a powerful quake, trembling at the ground around her, the tall vampire looked around him with an attempt of acceptance but his unease was apparent on his face.

"So you were a thief... I've never allowed a rogue in my court before." Harkon said with disdain in his voice.

"So what if I was a thief; we are strong, loyal and capable. Most of us are clever and are able to fight better than the Companions themselves." Arela exclaimed proudly, her irritation plain.

Who was he to talk of thieves? His court was a power struggle; the vampires in the dining hall ready and capable to kill for Harkon's position. It was plain to see, and deep down, although the powerful vampire is only of recent company, she believed he almost enjoyed it. Having the rabble of immortals fight for his throne somehow stroked his ego.

Serana had partly convinced Arela that Harkon was paranoid about losing his position on the court. Arela didn't fully agree, she saw his paranoia, but it was shrouded by his cocky attitude.

"Oh, I don't doubt your skill. You have displayed the power that your voice has to everyone in the court, and now you have instilled fear in them for me." Harkon flashed a small icy smile at Arela.

"Then what would you have of me?" Arela asked nervously.

"You are my blood kin, I trust you, much more than I trust any member of this court." Harkon said coolly "But that trust is not to be mistaken for favor. You should do well to remember"

"May I go now?" Arela asked quietly.

"Go and speak to Garan Marethi tell him 'it is time,' he will know what I mean." Harkon's remark left no room for negotiation, but the comment brought a light smirk to his face.

Arela bowed, knowing that feeding his ego was the fastest ticket out of their conversation, "Yes my Lord, as you wish."

She then spun around and she left Harkon's room.

Relief washed over Arela as she quietly closed the door; she was still in one piece and that was enough to be thankful for. She found it difficult to predict Harkon from what she had seen of him; but what Arela could tell was what a fickle leader of the court he was.

His desires were like a breeze in Windhelm, always strong but never sure where they would lead you.

Arela thought it best to just stay out of his way and maybe he would leave her alone... but somehow she doubted that.

Arela couldn't help but feel exhausted; having not slept a wink in the last three days was taking a toll on her ability to focus. The blood of the vampire gave her a surprising amount of energy, but she could feel sleep clouding her thoughts. So she began her trek to where the barracks were.

To Arela's shock she could hear Serana's voice close by.

She was standing close to her father's room talking to Garan near the balcony. They were muttering and Arela was able to pick up a small amount of the conversation.

They hadn't seen or heard her so far, so Arela decided to put her eavesdropping skills to the test. She shoved herself against the wall to pick up the details.

"...but Garan, my father is very unreasonable. He hasn't changed in the last few thousand years; he is still just as obsessed with the prophecy as he was when Mother and I left."

Garan sighed, "Lord Harkon is trying his best Lady Serana, but having to deal with this court is enough problems to last a lifetime."

"Yes, but he has never cared for Mother and me much to start out with..." Serana's voice sounded beaten, like she had just lost the most difficult battle in history. It carried the weight of a thousand years of burdens and adding family tension.

Arela could only image Garan getting distraught at such a response, so she decided to step in, as she slid from behind the wall.

"Hey, I'm still alive."

Serana smiled, "It's good to see you again. I was worried that you wouldn't come out of that in one piece. But it seemed you are in my father's new favorite."

"Yes, it would seem that way." Garan stated calmly. "But being in his favor is hard to keep."

"Garan, Harkon told me to give you a message."

"Lord Harkon. Remember your place. Now what is our Lords wish?" Garan seemed bothered by the fact Arela was relaying a message.

"He simply told me 'It is time.'"

Garan looked appalled, "Well, well, he wants the chalice then. Have you heard of the Blood Stone Chalice?"

"No... I've never heard of it?"

"It is a rather well-kept secret. The chalice had been in Lord Harkon's possession for quite some time now. It is, when used properly, able to increase the potency of our powers. This is good; it means grander things are afoot. Follow me." Garan continued talking as he lead Arela and Serana down the hall.

"Lord Harkon never cared to use the Chalice, relying on his more than adequate powers until now. This is an intriguing change." He exclaimed as he lead Arela and Serana down the stairs to the court floor.

"I don't really want to stir the pot." Arela said quietly.

"Oh, but your arrival already has." Garan said sullenly.

Arela was about to open her mouth in response, but thought better of it. Garan would only come back in an unrelenting fury.

They approached the court floor, Arela realized it was empty except for Orthjolf and she assumed the tall high elf was Vingalmo.

It was usual norm to see them arguing, but their banter was broken by Garan, Serana and Arela. Their entrance only seemed to intrigue the two court members.

Garan cleared his throat and simple stated, "Excuse us. I need to fetch the Blood Stone Chalice."

Vingalmo was perplexed by such an action though, Arela couldn't understand why.

"Why?" Vingalmo barked.

"What are you up to, Garan?" Orthjolf inquired in a slightly dark tone. "Does this have something to do with the new blood?"

Orthjolf cynical gaze rested on Arela.

"Lord Harkon's orders, Orthjolf, be calm." Garan's voice become stern as he proclaimed it, Arela could tell that he was weary of their bickering. "Our friend here has been ordered to fill the Chalice."

"Really?" The look on Vingalmo's face was enough to chill anyone's blood. Arela hadn't met him yet, but she had heard whispers about him.

He was an opportunist, and she knew Vingalmo wasn't going to pass up taking this Chalice for himself.

"Indeed. She's off to Red Water Den, tomorrow." Arela couldn't help but shoot Garan a look like he was a skeever brain.

She couldn't help but shoot Garan a dirty look; he was going to tell these two scheming skeevers where she was heading. That couldn't help her in any way.

"Well... the best of luck to you." Orthjolf winked at her. Arela looked at the floor then, as she felt her cheeks redden from his compliment.

Garan lead Arela and Serana past them, but Arela didn't miss Orthjolf flashing his fangs at her. Serana had seen it too and she leaned in, "Arela watch out for Orthjolf, I think he might... well fancy you."

"Yeah, I don't trust him." Arela muttered before Garan cut off her words.

"Orthjolf and Vingalmo are Harkon's primary advisers. I'm sure they're quite surprised to learn that you're taking the Chalice." Garan said as they reached a small room. In the middle of it was a pedestal where a large silver intricately designed cup sat. "And here we are." Garan lifted the Chalice so Arela could better look at it.

"Now, this Chalice needs to be filled directly from the blood spring that is the source of Red Water Den. But that's not enough... Once that's done, the blood of a powerful vampire needs to be added to it." Garan smiled and she couldn't help but be nervous at what Garan was going to say next.

"Keep in mind that Red Water Den has fallen into... well; let's just say that less reputable members of society now dwell there. It's your choice whether to attempt to deal with them or force your way through."

"So what bandits, thieves or cut throats?" Serana asked.

"Skooma dealers." Garan frowned.

Serana displayed interest in her voice, "So can I go on this little adventure?"

"I'm not sure." Garan looked unsettled. "Arela I must warn you... I have seen that you will not be the only one from this castle at Red Water Den... If you understand what I'm talking about."

"Yes, I understand, you told them where I was going..." Arela scowled

"Well I had to... Harkon would want me to make it difficult for you or it wouldn't be a test."

"So this test is to amuse him? To keep him guessing who will come back...?" Arela said coldly.

"Yes, it seems that way, but our Lord wants to assess you abilities. You may leave tomorrow night. But hurry back. You don't want to keep Lord Harkon waiting..."

Arela couldn't help but smirk; she was only too ready to leave this place.


	7. A Thief in the Night

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I love all the support I'm getting from you followers and reviewers! So thanks, but enough of me, time to get this chapter started and I loved writing this chapter, so I hope you guys like it too! So here we go...**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series or Bethesda. I'm just giving them the credit they deserve, but Arela and Enden are my characters.**

* * *

_**~Rihanna, Disturbia**_

_**It's a thief in the night  
To come and grab you  
It can creep up inside you  
And consume you  
A disease of the mind  
It can control you  
It's too close for comfort**_

* * *

The night was refreshing against Arela's skin, as the breeze brushed between her exposed fingers, and the air had a soft chill that ran up her spine and hid between her shoulder blades leaving her with a shiver.

Arela had left Castle Volkihar an hour ago to get the Blood Stone Chalice, but the need for supplies has caused Arela to side track to Solitude.

It felt unnatural to walk amongst people again now that she was a vampire. Arela's need to retreat to her house Proudspire eclipsed her desire for blood; though her throat felt as if needles were being driven into her esophagus.

Solitude was thought to be the most beautiful city in Skyrim; with its intricate brick work on the buildings and the fancy spires that towered in the sky, with the sallow colored shingles lined on the roofs like dragon scales.

The blue-gray stone gave the city a dark complexion, and an old powerful feel. But every building was accented with vegetation from ferns to moss and even small mountain flowers of every color she could think of; this flowers were bright and wonderful with her enhanced vision.

The city walls around were high, with moss curtaining down the walls highlighting the thick gray stones. The walls look like they could touch the shadowy night sky, they were too tall, so tall they seemed to mix with the back splash of mountains in which the city had been tucked into.

Arela got frustrated with Solitude; there was no escaping the city, the main exits were always covered with outrageous amounts of guards. It was only too often to hear about guards killing fellow thieves; it always made Arela feel fortunate to be blessed by Nocturnal. Her mistress would never be as cruel to allow her to be caught in this city. She hoped.

She weaved between merchants, drunks and city folks, trying not to knock any of them over, because causing a disturbance was the last thing Arela desired.

She quickly made her way down the gravelly cobblestone path; passing the hanging lanterns that lined the streets. The lantern light irritated her pale skinned hands, which was the only skin exposed in Arela's armor.

She steadied her pace once her house was in view.

Arela stared at Proudspire Manor; the elegant look of the house was something that Arela would never get use to.

Many in the Guild said Arela had spent the Eyes of the Falmer well. But the house never felt like a home to her, so she had decided to make Proudspire a Guild safe house in Solitude.

The house itself contradicted her style, she had lived in Riften her whole life where everything was simple and rustic. Proudspire was nothing but expensive, cold and hollow empty space.

Though now she was pleased at the houses convenient location to Castle Volkihar, so she didn't have to travel all the way to Riften to get supplies.

When Arela had attempted to buy potions, Feran had dumped every bottle of value on the floor just to spite her. So searching through her house in Solitude had seemed like a great bet.

Arela ascended the steps to the front door; the decorative metal work on the front door made the house seem more inviting than it actually was.

Arela pushed the doors open and entered the stuffy sitting room; the room had only enough space for a basic chair and table. A juniper tree had fanned its branches wildly from the planter pot. It was wild and untamed from lack of being trimmed.

The limestone colored bricks left the room feeling very primitive and yet chalky. It lacked a natural feeling of soft and relaxing; making Arela feeling like she was trapped in a stone box.

This was where her housecarl, Jordis, had spent most of her time, and currently she was sitting in the room reading a book.

Instantly Jordis reacted to the sound of an intruder; her hand shoot for the steel sword attached to her belt. But the tensioned relaxed when Jordis had finally recognized Arela in her Nightingale armor.

"Oh, sorry my Thane. You never said that you were returning to Solitude anytime soon." Jordis stated quietly, her voice leery, almost unsure of Arela's intentions. Arela's throat tightened in anxiousness at the unease of her housecarl.

Jordis watched her cautiously as Arela turned her back to the housecarl, placing her traveling pack onto a nearby table ready to be refilled.

"Ah, yes I have returned to pick up some supplies. You know some potions, and arrows. Has anything happened in Solitude lately? I have always felt like time moved so slowly in this city. It lacks excitement." Arela stated plainly, hoping her voice expressed enough calmness to put Jordis at ease.

Arela had often avoided Solitude, plainly on behalf of the Empire. She was trying to stay politically neutral, but Tullius and Ulfric were still searching for the 'Dragonborn', or on the other hand, Arela. But far as they were concerned the Dragonborn was a male Imperial.

Keeping her identity discreet from them was one of her top priorities. Often Arela would ask members of the Guild to spread fake rumors to citizens about the whereabouts of a Dragonborn, which only covered Arela's tracks.

Focused back on the task at hand, Arela walked into the kitchen and started rummaging through her cupboards. She viciously searched for health and stamina potions.

She had made plenty when she had first bought the house, but Guild members tend to use things and not replace them.

Jordis' words suspended Arela's thoughts and search.

"Well... my Thane, a man from the Guild brought a letter here today. It's on the kitchen table." Jordis pointed to a bland looking envelop on the large oak table.

Arela paused her search for potions, and languidly made her way over to the table. She quickly picked up the letter and examined it thoroughly.

The handwriting on the outside of the envelop was nothing more than a messy scrawl of letters that seemed to form the name 'Arela.'

Arela smiled; she only knew too well who had wrote the letter. Cynric Endell...

Arela wanted to open the letter.

But it took all her willpower to stop her from ripping open the letter and ravenously reading every word and then reading it several times as if his words were not enough. Because his words were never enough for Arela.

His words were worth more than an amount of septims, or any treasure she had collected over the years.

His words made her confident, confident that she was strong and could do anything; that no challenge was too great.

If Cynric had not been there when Mercer had betrayed the Guild; Arela was sure she would have lost the will to fight.

But his friendship had rekindled her belief in trust and loyalty, there was no one in the Guild that knew her so well.

They had always competed to see who was the better archer; it usually ended with Cynric mumbling angrily while forking over some money to a lost bet.

Cynric was the only person that could give Arela a run for her money in lock picking. He had once been a jailbreaker, so picking locks quickly had been his specialty, but they had always broke even.

Arela thought back to them running through Riften, while being chased by the infuriated city guard. Climbing walls and slipping down alleyways had always been their safe getaway.

The nights they had spent in the Flagon, telling stories and drinking every septim rang in Arela's mind. They would drink until their money was depleted or until Vekel kicked their drunken bodied out of the Flagon.

To say they were in love was too extreme; but to say they were friends was an understatement. Arela couldn't describe their relationship, it was relaxed yet competitive, fun yet serious, warming yet slightly cold. Every way Arela thought of their affections it turned into a contradiction.

Just the thought of him made her heart fluttered like a birds beating wings, irregular and erratic.

Just looking at the letter she was reminded of all her memories with him.

But all of those recollections had been from before her appointed as Guild Master. When the Guild had still symbolized freedom and regalement.

The moment Arela had been delegated to Guild Master everything had changed... The Guild had shifted to a world of business: finding marks, running financials, communicating with contacts, inflicting fear and keeping thieves in line.

The luster the Guild had once received from Arela was desecrated in months, by the hovering expectations of the Guild's need for organization.

Cynric and Arela had grown apart, but he had been distraught upon discovering Arela departing from the Guild to hunt vampires with her brother Enden.

They had become tangled in a brutal fight.

Arela had said a few things she regretted deeply, and that made her nervous about the contents of the letter.

Arela knew if she read his letter now she would be reduced to nothing but sorrowful tears. She had desperately missed him; he had been Arela's steady rock in an ocean of trouble, and overwhelming responsibility.

Arela stood frozen by the kitchen table, just examining the poorly assembled letter.

There was a small creaking noise upstairs, the sound shocked Arela out of her trance, and she reached for the small dagger in her boot.

Jordis' voice broke the tense silence. "A thief from the Guild is still here. He said that he wanted to rest before he departed the city and headed back to Riften. He insisted he knew you well, so I allowed him to stay upstairs in the spare bedroom."

Jordis looked at Arela with an uneasy expression.

Arela silently cursed the housecarl for innocently following her wishes. Arela had told Jordis when she moved here that thieves would be allowed to bunk here, as long as they said they were from the Guild.

"Thank you for telling me." Arela said weakly.

She tried to force herself to move toward the winding steps upstairs. But she couldn't, it was as if an invisible wire was pulling her away.

Arela contemplating leaving; she didn't need the potions, what she had need was just a little familiarity. She had missed civilization and order, as well as the comfort of privacy.

And now she had wrapped a noose around her neck, one of the Guild members was going to find out the truth. That Arela was nothing more than a... vampire.

Arela cautiously made her way up the stairs, they seemed to be the longest flight of steps in Arela's life as she dragged her body up.

Finally she had reached the landing, and Arela stared straight into her room. And there was no denying it; there sat a figure in the far corner of her room.

He had propped his leg up on the table, and was reclining in a small chair right next to her four poster bed, as if waiting for her to return.

He was definitely from the Guild; the brown thick leather cuirass and leggings that had molded to his body. His boots were caked in mud from his journey here; he must have passed through the marshes of Hjaalmarch.

Arela struggled to make out who it was, his brown hood casted a heavy shadow on his face. But Arela suspected it was Cynric.

He seemed to be napping in the chair; but he shifted at the sound of Arela's approach.

His head lifted and his face was bathed in light exposing his rough complexion and finally showing Arela who it was, Cynric Endell.

He had the features of the average Breton; the slightly narrower face from the average human and the longer nose.

On normal days he wore such a serious expression, but his soft blue eyes burned with a hidden charm. He would never admit it but she could tell he was happy to see her.

He had light stubble on his face from lack of shaving, and his short light brown hair laid lazily on his forehead.

But the one thing that Arela caught herself staring at all the time was the jagged scars on his left cheek. She had always wondered how he got them. She could hardly fathom who would want to inflict such a wound on the quiet and reserved Cynric Endell.

Cynric gradually rose from his seat and his mouth contorted into a wryly smirk.

"Long time no see Arela."


	8. Reunions

**[A/N]: Hey guys, sorry this chapter was a bit later than usual. This chapter was tricky for me; I redid and restarted this so many times I lost count. So sorry about that. And also all you Serana fans hold in there, she is coming back soon in a blinding fury! :) **

**Also I would love to thank you all for the lovely reviews, it does mean a lot to me to see you guys posting. But enough talk, I'll let you guys read this chapter and judge it for yourselves, here we go...  
**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's job. But I Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Secondhand Serenade, Fall For You**_

_**The best thing about tonight's that we're not fighting  
Could it be that we have been this way before  
I know you don't think that I am trying  
I know you're wearing thin down to the core**_

**_But hold your breath_**  
**_Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you, over again_**  
**_Don't make me change my mind, or I won't live to see another day_**  
**_I swear it's true_**

* * *

For the first time Arela was shocked into silence. She hadn't expected anyone to be waiting for her, especially not in her bedroom, and of all people it was Cynric, the only thief she had ever developed feelings for.

His sky blue eyes glided over Arela, washing over her body and admiring her in the Nightingale armour. He had always told Arela the armour was only too complementing for her figure. Comments like that had always made her blush fiercely, and Arela had never let other thieves discourage her, but Cynric and the vampires at Castle Volkihar were another matter.

Arela wasn't sure what his intentions were, there was no reason why Cynric should have been in Solitude. Most thieves in the Guild would have just headed back to Riften already, not wishing to speak to the Guild Master. Mercer's style of leadership had still scared many members into avoiding her.

"What are you doing here?" Arela asked she had been so spun in her own thoughts and forget that Cynric had actually spoken to her.

"I was just passing through Solitude, and thought I might check to see if you were home." Cynric shrugged, but Arela could see he was slightly flustered.

"Does that explain why you need to sleep in my room? I have a spare bedroom." Arela stifled a smile; she was going to make this slightly miserable for him.

"Eh... I was looking at the lovely decor, and then sat down to admire it and fell asleep..." Cynric was shifting his weight back and forth; he was acting like a skittish fool and it was amusing to Arela.

"Oh that's bull. Tell me the truth Cynric." Arela stated bluntly, crossing her armored arms.

He focused on his hands for a second, refusing to look at Arela. She was enjoying watching him submit to her questions. He was always too composed to expose his real feelings, so he averted eye contact.

Finally his steely blue eyes became fixated on Arela's; she could see bravery glow in his eyes.

"Well, you haven't shown your face around the Guild in months, and I wanted to apologize for the things I said before you left to join the Dawnguard."

Arela was amazed at his declaration; she never thought that Cynric was even a person to apologize. He often said crude things, but he never confessed to any wrongdoings; this definitely felt like a break through to Arela.

"Are you apologizing?" Arela failed to mask the shock in her voice.

"Well you can refer it as that, but I prefer to call it; 'Enforcing mutual harmony'." He shot back, giving Arela a dry smirk. It was odd to see his smile again; she was too use to seeing a scowl on his face.

A quiet chuckle escaped from Arela's mouth, "That is the Cynric I remember."

"Now, what are you doing here, back in Solitude Arela? You've been avoiding the Guild for months now like we're some disease. Are you afraid to get caught up in the Guild again?" He paused; she could see he was mulling his next few words over in his head.

"Because we miss you, Brynjolf is doing a great job, but there is nothing like having the _real_ Guild Master around." Cynric said with melancholy laced in his words.

Arela felt like someone had punched the wind right out of her; there was nothing left Arela could say. But Cynric continued on his persuasive rant.

"Nothing has been the same since you left... Thrynn is not quite as entertaining as you were. Nurin isn't great archery competition, he always wins, and at least you and I were more evenly matched."

Arela felt as if her brain was paralyzed, his statement was so full of emotion and nostalgia it caused Arela to be submerged in guilt; she wasn't there for him. Was his words just meant in a friendly gesture? Slowly Arela fumbled through words, until she was able to pull out enough to make a sentence.

"I can't go back. Not yet. I have some things to complete... But I will go back, I just don't know when..." Arela struggled to say.

Cynric's grin was replaced with a harsh scowl; Arela flinched at the cursing look.

"Why not come back now? Arela I can't stand another day in the Guild without you..." Cynric raised his voice an octave, and his face still wielded a rigid expression.

Her thoughts were slowed, even frozen. Statues bearing confused expressions in her mind, unable to comprehend the strange world they have come to. Was Cynric confessing feelings for her, possibly love for her? It seemed only too surreal.

She couldn't be sure his face was just too passive, maybe slightly cold. Arela couldn't get a good reading off him, so Arela decided to try and delve into some possibilities until she was able to figure it out.

"Having trouble making friends?" Arela mocked.

"I'm not having trouble talking to people." He released another scowl; he knew that Arela was making fun of his very reclusive behavior. "I just preferred the friend I had before. You know the stubborn red head..."

"You must be talking about Brynjolf, because my hair isn't quite red." Arela left a hint of smugness in her voice.

"Do you really have to get technical? Ok, so your hair is gingery, but you're still stubborn." Cynric's mouth twisted into a smirk and crossed his arms in front of his muscular chest.

Arela tried her best to peel her eyes off Cynric, but she couldn't. He was... attractive: well-built muscles, brown hair, the light scruffy beard, and the pale blue eyes. There wasn't a single trait about his that made her reconsider her desire for him.

There was a very still silence for a few seconds, but Arela used the time to process what had been said.

Had Cynric really missed her that much or was he over exaggerating? Arela had missed him too, but she had assumed that he never wanted to see her again, with the sore feelings that had been left behind. Their fight had escalated into volleying insults back and forth.

Arela had refused to even say farewell to him when she left for Fort Dawnguard. She hated to admit but his words had cut her deep, deeper than she thought possible, so deep that his words had consumed her, and nagged in her subconscious mind still. He had called her fearful; fearful of responsibility, fearful of leadership, and most of all fearful of being a failure to the Guild. Arela was terrified of turning just like Mercer: power-hungry, narcissistic, manipulative and overconfident. Having such power scared her, but she was too proud to admit it.

Another problem that had been agonizing in Arela's mind was the truth about her condition... he didn't know she was a vampire. Cynric had always been honest with Arela at all times; it was their unwritten rule, and until this moment Arela had always thought she would return his faith in her character. But how could she now? There was no way he could handle the shock.

But Arela's conscience won over; she couldn't let Cynric down, not if she could help it.

Arela cleared her throat and tried to preserve the confidence she had left. "Cynric I have to tell you something..."

"Yeah, what is it?" Cynric was giving her mysterious grin, as his eyes were scanning her hooded face once again.

"I have to show you... a secret, but you have to promise not to tell a soul, not even anyone in the Guild, and try not to kill me... Got it?"

"Please don't tell me you're pregnant or something weird like that. Plus when have I tried to kill you Arela?" Cynric let a gravelly chuckle slip from between his perfectly dull pink lips.

With a sickening feeling building in her stomach, Arela slowly removed her Nightingale hood. Arela's hands fumbled with the hood, her fingers feeling slightly uncoordinated as Cynric watched her with his anxious pale blue eyes that shined like iced lakes.

Arela peeled back her hood and shook her head, allowing her rusty coloured hair to spill down her face like a soft waterfall.

Arela lifted her head and looked up at Cynric with her unfamiliar red melodramatic eyes.

Cynric jumped back and knocked into a chair causing him to stumble backwards and slam his body against the wall.

He gaped at Arela, as if she was recognizable, but entirely foreign.

Arela wanted to know what he was thinking, was he scared, or just surprised? But she couldn't detect an expression because his eyes were obscured in darkness; they were hidden beneath his thick brown hood.

She lowered her glowing eyes almost shamefully, not wanting him to look at her further, the air became heavier as she waited so patiently but anxiously for his response. But he just stared hard at the foreign woman before him who had resembled someone he cared for. Finally after a tense minute of silence he spoke.

"What... What happened, Arela...? You're a vampire... Did you contract vampirism...?" Cynric's tone expressed shock, as he stumbled over his words.

"I was bitten by a vampire... I didn't have any control over it..." Arela whispered her voice had lost its strength. The truth had finally exposed Arela's internal struggle for her self-respect, something she had tried to repress since she had turned. Had she done the right thing?

The question still etched in her mind, just Cynric's quiet hesitation caused Arela to inquire if she should have allowed Harkon to snap her neck, so she wouldn't have to deal with the heartache.

Arela's heart picked up speed with ever tantalizing speechless second. Was Cynric assuming she was weak? That she shouldn't have allowed herself to turn into a vampire; that she should have rather ended her life?

Cynric just stared in silence, as if time wasn't passing. Arela watched as his hand gradually slid to where he held his steel dagger.

Every muscle in her body tensed, unsure of his intentions. Would Cynric really run her through with a dagger or was he really that horrified by her? How could he even think of such a thing...?

Arela felt warm tears brimming in her eyes threatening to cascade down her pale cheeks; Arela looked down at her feet. On normal circumstances Arela wouldn't have cared what other Guild members thought, but Cynric's opinion mattered. If she couldn't have his acceptance there was no way anyone else in the Guild would understand.

Cynric's hardened facial features melted away as he saw the tears welled up in Arela's eyes as she looked away.

Without a word Cynric fluidly worked his way over to her. He took Arela's cool pale hands in his. His hands were callous, but gentle as the engulfed her smaller hands.

His skin was so warm and Arela absorbed the heat, consuming his warmth ravenously, she could feel him tremble under her cold touch.

Without reason Arela felt as if her heart was about to explode; her blood was rushing through her body without control. She felt the heat from his body reappear in her cheeks.

She had no idea why Cynric had this strong effect on her, but it made her own thoughts die and she was unable to clear him out of her mind; he was running around in her head and she was unable to shoo him away.

The silence was ringing in Arela's brain as well, driving her to speak.

"Say something..." Arela said shyly. She could feel his warmth emanating off him like rays of sun. But she just wanted to hear his voice, to let his words spill over her like warm water.

"I just wasn't expecting this... So... is this why you won't come back to the Guild?" Cynric said softly; waking from his trance.

For a few seconds his face looked so much older, as if the news itself had aged his body. Arela had never meant to stress him... all she desired now was his acceptance; nothing more mattered, just his acceptance... Arela's subconscious pleaded.

"I got assimilated into a... cult of vampires... Not really my choice either, and I don't think leaving is an option. I've been trapped at their stronghold for a while." Arela said smoothly, instantly recalling her suffered sentence there with Serana.

Cynric sat down on Arela's bed, lost in thought, but finally he found his voice.

"Well, I guess you owe me a story or explanation for all this." Cynric uttered.

Arela frowned, she didn't really want to mention all the events that had transpired, but there was no way around it. Cynric wanted the truth, so that was exactly what he was going to get. "I guess I do... so let me start from the beginning..."

* * *

Hours had passed; Arela and Cynric were still passing news, jokes and stories back and forth. It was comforting to see his slow growing acceptance of her appearance. Their friendship still seemed relaxed and as normal as ever, even though so much had changed.

Cynric had been sweet enough to tell her every major event that had happened in the Guild since Arela's departure. Arela had been disturbed to hear of Etienne's magical disappearance, as well as some members activities and gossip. But Cynric had been relentless in his questioning of Arela's activities as a vampire.

It was nice to have someone to confide in, but Cynric was definitely trying to find any hidden truths or secrets in Arela's words.

Arela had kept out the details of Castle Volkihar, just for Cynric's safety. She never wanted him to discover the castle because if he did he would be in grave danger.

Delight was beginning to resurface from its dormant stage, causing Arela to smile.

Arela was nothing but overjoyed that Cynric hadn't killed her and dumped a gallon of holy water on her corpse. Cynric's words dragged Arela back to Nirn.

"Trapped? And you didn't try and break out or run away?" Cynric said perplexed.

"It's complicated, I'm staying there because I want to protect a certain vampire I consider a friend." Arela said with a neutral tone. The only reason she was staying at Castle Volkihar was because Serana made her feel obligated to.

"You're friends with a vampire? What is the world coming to?"

"She is good, I swear! She isn't like the other vampires that are blood crazy and power hungry!" Arela said sharply.

"I'm so sorry..." Cynric's tone was warm as he squeezed her hand, causing Arela's heart to thunder like drums in her chest. Unlike most Bretons; he was surprisingly compassionate and understanding, he was almost too empathic for a jail breaker.

"Hey, I know what it means to feel judged. When I first joined up with the Guild everyone avoided me because I had come from the Reach. My parents were part of the Forsworn, so the Nord members of the Guild assumed I had been involved in the attack on Markarth. They couldn't see past my race and background, even if it was out of my control. All they wanted to see was a savage, and so I was painted that way for a few years."

"If you can believe it, Bryn, Rune and I didn't always see eye to eye. For the first two years of being in the Guild they never spoke one word to me." Cynric's tone was serious, but ironically he chuckled.

"I didn't know that...Sadly I didn't notice you much in the Guild back then. You were always so quiet." Arela gave him a sombre look.

"Yeah, don't worry Arela everyone in the Guild will eventually accept the change you've made. 'Time heals all wounds' as some say, and most of the members already know you well. So all you have to do is win their hearts again, and prove you haven't changed."

While still holding her hands, Cynric silently kissed the top of Arela's hand. His stare at her never broke, as his pale lips connected with her ghostly skin.

Arela felt her heart stop. She swore Cynric knew exactly how to make her flustered, nervous and star struck all at once. Just his voice was enough to make her feel weightless.

He could be such a gentleman when he wanted to and he was such a tease. He knew exactly how to act around women, and that was the main reason Arela never fully let her guard down around him. But now she couldn't help it, she was too vulnerable in her new form.

Cynric's articulate voice whispered to her. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Not even the Guild will know. Not until you are ready to tell them. You are planning on telling them aren't you?" He said louder.

"Yes... I just have some business to conduct at Red Water Den." Arela frowned, as she reminded herself of the trip she had to complete for Harkon. Just the thought of her real mission ruined the moment.

Cynric pushed Arela an arm's length away; his faded blue eyes filled with sorrowful rage. "You're going to a Skooma den? Why! Arela that is insane, not to mention dangerous!"

"It isn't about Skooma, rather what is hidden there."

"Arela you promised that you wouldn't get the Guild involved in the drug trade, no matter how much Tonilia tried to persuade you. All those Skooma dens are sickly and full of low lives. I don't even want to imagine you there..."

"Cynric, this has nothing to do with drugs. I promise, and if you haven't noticed I'm a vampire now. Having superhuman abilities does have its advantages." Arela said angrily, why didn't he believe her? She wasn't going to a Skooma Den for drugs.

Cynric frowned, "Ok, I'm just making sure. I just don't want you to get hurt..."

"Cynric you worry too much. I can take care of myself, always could and always have."

"Yeah, but look where taking care of yourself got you... You got bite by a vampire, and everybody in society wants to kill you now."

Arela tried to fight the scowl that was beginning to appear on her face. "So you want to kill me too?"

"No I didn't say that." Cynric said defensively.

"Well you said everybody."

"I could never kill you Arela. I love–" He cut himself off quickly, and started anew. "You're like a best friend; I could never harm you even if I wanted to."

"Sure..." Arela smiled, accidentally flashing Cynric her fangs.

Cynric cringed. "It might take a bit for me to get use to that."

"Yeah; I'm sorry about my teeth."

Cynric let her hands go from his warm grip.

"It's getting late, I should probably go." Cynric said calmly.

He slowly made his way over to the tiny window in her room. Arela watched as Cynric opened and then clambered out her window.

"What are you doing?!" Arela exclaimed watching him retreat out of her window.

"I'm leaving. The way most thieves escape." Cynric smiled.

She slowly made her way over to where he was climbed out.

He hung there for a second. Before he landed flat on the soft grass of Arela's garden. He angled his head to look up at Arela.

"Where are you going?" Arela asked.

"Back to Riften, I was supposed to be back yesterday from my thieving spree. But I just had a feeling you would be back soon..." He gave Arela a mysterious smile.

"Ah, ok. Well I'll see you again. Write to my house here, ok?" Arela said frantically, hoping he wouldn't start walking away.

"Only if you promise you will come back to the Guild soon Arela." Cynric flashed Arela a grin.

"Of course, I'll be back. I won't be parted from my home too much longer." Arela smiled. And in that moment she let herself slip, and blew a kiss from her window down toward Cynric.

Arela swore it felt like a scene from a cheesy romance novel. With the sea breeze causing her reddish hair to flutter in front of her face. The night sky painted with splashes of navy blue and indigo, and speckled with white stars. It felt so cliché but she was desperate for him to know how she felt.

It was hard to make out but Cynric gave her a glowing smile, flashing all his bright and white straight teeth.

"See you around Arela." He said before departing down the main street that ran through Solitude like a thick river.

His languid pace called Arela's gaze. She couldn't take her eyes off him; she wasn't sure when they would meet next and so she soaked in all the details of his departing figure against the city and the night sky.

It wasn't long before his dark shadow was consumed in the night, and Arela once again felt fully alone, leaning out her window.

She only wished to have him back here, to feel the warmth of his skin, and to listen to his heart beat.

Arela looked into the night sky to see lightning flashing from the west, a storm was brewing Arela could feel the static in the thick air. The storm was calling to her with the dark clouds and the rough bellowing cracks of thunder, with torrents of rain, and bright flashes of lightning. The very storm left a ball of uncertainty in her stomach; she was going to have to fight that storm on her journey back to the Rift.

Her future was certainly hanging in the balance, and the more she looked at the storm, the more she thought of her life and her unpredictable future.

Arela let out an exhausted sigh, as she headed back downstairs to pack for her journey to Red Water Den.


	9. Deceptive Meetings

**[A/N]: Hey guy, I did something a little different for this chapter, I switched up the perspective. But I just wanted to thank you guys for the awesome reviews, reading those really gives me the motivation to keep writing! If you got time please tell me what you think about me changing the view point, because if you guys like it I'll consider writing chapters from other character's perspectives.**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't have rights to the Elder Scroll Series that is the expertise of Bethesda, but Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

**_~Linkin Park, What I've Done_**

**_For what I've done  
I start again  
And whatever pain may come  
Today this ends  
I'm forgiving what I've done_**

* * *

Nights were always cool in the Rift, as a chilling breeze swooped down from the mountains surrounding Fort Dawnguard. The wind caused the fall leaves to flutter down from the trees and skip across the dewy grass.

The sound of churning water from the glacial run off resonated in the small valley that the Fort was tucked into. The Dawnguard were surrounded by tall mountains that dominated the landscape which seemed to cut the Fort off from the world around them, except from the open sky.

The ground was bathed in weak moonlight, causing the dewy drops on the grass to shined like intricately placed diamonds.

The sky looked like a black void trying to swallow Nirn. Isran had been watching for nights as the two moons, Secunda and Masser danced around each other in their orbit. Their brilliant white illuminated the black sky and gave the dark forest a white heavenly luster.

Isran had been on watch for a few days; most of the Dawnguard members were out looking for recruits or supplies. So Isran had been on guard at the front gate, sitting on the platform behind the wooden wall.

Guard duty was always such petty work, Isran thought, but it was necessary work. Plus it was better than sleeping; and sleeping was for the weak.

Guard duty seemed to inflict boredom and the only cure for Isran was watching the moons and memorizing every crater marked on their rocky surfaces. Sometimes Isran would map out the stars in his mind or try and make his own constellations in exchange for a small amount of entertainment.

There was very little relief from the boring task of standing and waiting for vampires. On occasion a few members of the Dawnguard would pass by on their return and it was always interesting to see when his members would bring new recruits.

Isran had a small sadistic love for training new recruits; he liked to guess which ones would make it or which ones he would find dead in combat. Most recruits didn't last more than a few weeks, so there was little use bond with members, he was never sure which members would survive so Isran only spoke to his old friend Celann. He actually knew how to kill vampires, unlike the whelps.

Time was crawling by only too slowly, causing Isran to start cleaning his war hammer. The light from one of the lite oil basins was enough for him to see the dirt and grime. This hammer was his only defense from vampires, and Isran planned on keeping clean and ready for battle.

He shined and buffed the metal until he could see his own reflection. His dark skin blended with the night, and his black thick beard looked scraggly in the hammer's reflection. The only features that stood out was his bald head and his dull blue eyes, which burned back at him with a fierce intensity.

Isran looked away from his hammer; he hated looking at his complexion, it reminded him that he was getting old. He wasn't the same fit young man able to crush everything in sight with brute force.

He was once able to intimidate people with his mere body size, strength and his clever wit. He had never been careless or reckless; but his skills had been enough to kill most tricky enemies.

But now he had to rely heavily on experience and wisdom, and his harsh rugged look versus his power, and the thought left a prang of fury in his mind.

Isran's thoughts were shattered by a man walking up to the Fort gate.

He was clad in a thick brown undershirt and over the top was brown chainmail with the heavy silvery buckles that shimmered in the bright oil light. His faded brown Dawnguard boots were smeared in mud as he strutted toward the Fort.

His hair was a chestnut brown, but it was long and it brushed against the short scruffy whiskers that covered his face. But currently his hair was covered by the brownish gray bear-head hat that the Stormcloak officers wore. To Isran he was a spitting image of the traditional Nord.

His eyes were a blue that simmered a dark and vivid shade, but his eyes were clear with a youthful and fresh gaze.

Enden was strolling in with a downtrodden expression.

"Any luck?" Isran asked nonchalantly, in his gruff voice.

"None... I don't know where Arela went, and it's starting to scare me. I told her to wait for me near Ice water Jetty, and she wasn't there!" Enden cried out, with sorrow in his eyes. "She never seems to listen to me!"

"Oh, damn shame." Isran muttered. In reality he didn't give a shit. Arela had only posed problems and more problems were the last thing Isran needed.

Enden was cool and calm; it took a lot for Enden to become aggravated, which he obviously was with Arela's disappearance after Dimhollow. But he was definitely loyal and passionate and those were the traits needed in a vampire slayer. Isran saw it in his eyes; Enden was vengeful against the vampire kind.

Isran had always wondered what had brought Enden to hate vampires with his venomous passion. But he had never thought it was his place to ask, each member had their reason for hating vampires; it made each hunter unique. It was just odd to see a person that rivaled Isran's passionate strength to eradicate vampires. It was intriguing to say the least.

But Enden was loyal to Arela and he wasn't going to give up his search, not yet, though Isran knew it was a waste of Enden's time.

Isran had never cared for Arela, if Enden was calm like water; Arela had been like fire: angry, stubborn, arrogant, rash, wild and the list went on and on...

She had proved to be a godly archer and she was tactically savvy; but she just lacked the ability to follow orders and the desire to destroy the vampire kind. She had been too focused on hiding behind the Dawnguard, and that had troubled him.

Celann had really liked her; he was convinced there was more than what met the eye with her; that she had a mysterious charming power of will. Celann was rumored to have a gift for reading people. But Isran saw it as just talk. Isran knew Celann well; he was a person that lusted and that caused Isran to conclude that Celann had just wanted to bed her, nothing more.

Enden had been the real prize when Isran saw the pair walk in wishing to sign up. He had the brute strength that Isran had once possessed, and he had been wearing the General attire of a Stormcloak officer and a giant Nordic two-handed sword, which was proof of his skill.

And still he was proving his loyalty to the Dawnguard; he was without question Isran's favorite new recruit.

"Well, I'm going back up to the Fort; I haven't slept in a day at least. Night." Enden muttered in exhaustion.

Isran gave Enden a curt nod.

Enden passed Isran without another look. Isran could sense the stress rolling off him in waves, he was worried about Arela, but what could he do if the vampires had gotten to her.

Most likely she had just wandered off to better ventures, which were what most likely had happened. It had seemed that Arela was only consumed by the thought of coin and danger, not protecting the world from the impending vampire menace.

Isran pushed those two out of his mind, and he went back to observing the moons.

* * *

Three hours had passed, and Isran was starting to carve into the wooden spikes that tipped the barricade, with his freshly sharpened dagger.

Time was being cruel to him by moving at a snail's pace. It was agonizing to sit in one spot for hours, and judging by the sky it was only two in the morning, which meant he had about seven more hours on duty.

Isran had already polished his war hammer down to a perfect illuminating shin, only looking up occasionally to see any movement beyond the walls.

Everything was like a statue, frozen outside the Fort walls, or so Isran had thought, before two hooded figures started to make their way over toward the massive Fortress.

Their cloaks stirred behind them from the breeze off the mountains, and their pace picked up speed once they realized Isran had noticed them. Their steps were impossible to detect, and their movements were so fluid and majestic, it seemed inhuman.

They both had their faces guarded by a hood and aimed at the ground, but from their sizes he could safely infer that it was a male and a female.

They had finally approached the wall, and they halted before reaching the gate.

The male stepped forward, his black boots undetectable, "Are you the one they call Isran?" His said in a harsh tone.

Isran just stared at them for a few seconds; they didn't look like travelers or recruits, so who were these strangers?

"Yes, I am Isran. Who are you, and what do you want?" He hollered at them.

The girl stepped forward; she had a letter in her hand. She walked up to the wall and handed Isran the letter. Desperate to see her face Isran leaned forward, straining his eyes, waiting for the oil lantern light to illuminate her features, but it was shrouded in her hood still.

"We are the Jarl's messengers, so read it." The man demanded. His tone was nothing more than a growl.

Isran looked at the man in disgust and reluctantly started to open the letter, making sure not to keep his eyes off the two newcomers for more than a few seconds.

Isran ripped at the envelope; swiftly he tossed the tattered remained aside and focused on the elegantly written note.

_Dear Isran,_

_I have sent this letter to inform you that one of your members, Arela Snow-Strider, has been reported to have become a vampire. I was told that she was a member of the Dawnguard, so I thought it appropriate to notify you that you are in charge of her removal. She is highly powerful as you know, so to protect the citizens of the Rift you must eliminate her._

_One of my advisers, Maven Black-Briar, suggested contacting assassins to remove her. Maven was convinced that your Guild isn't strong enough to kill a powerful being such as the Dragonborn. Please take care of this issue immediately._

_Sincerely,_

_Laila Law-Giver, Jarl of the Rift_

Only one thought seemed to be firmly entrenched in Isran's mind, _what in Oblivion was this letter for?_

"Ok, what the hell is this about?" Isran demanded, crumpling the letter in his hand.

"Isn't it obvious, the Dragonborn was turned into a vampire under your watch? So the Jarl wants you to take care of this." The women in the dark robes said. They were both hiding their faces under their draped hood.

"Are you trying to tell me that Arela, a puny and irritating girl is the Dragonborn of legend? Because, I don't buy it." Isran scoffed, there was no way Arela was the Dragonborn, she was far from a hero, and these people must have the wrong person.

The woman's voice became filled with bile for his comment. "That is what the letter says, does it not?"

"Yes, I can read." Isran snapped back, he just couldn't believe her words. "And the Jarl, who hasn't given a shit that I've been recruiting vampire hunter out here, is going to try and tell _me _what to do now? Because I don't care what she has to say, I'm just going to ignore her plea, because I have other issues to worry about. She can take care of this vampire 'Dragonborn' herself. And I will tell you this, Arela isn't the Dragonborn."

Isran wasn't going to let these strangers tell him what to think or do, and there was no way the Jarl was going try and make Isran do her dirty work.

"How dare you talk about the Jarl that way! If I were you, I would do what the Jarl asks." The man said.

"And why is that? Is the Jarl going to send some thugs to try and 'persuade' me to change my mind? Or is she going to use the real Jarl, Maven Black-Briar to try and bully me into following orders?" Isran fumed, he could hardly tolerate this idiocy anymore.

"Oh... no, Maven suggested we could always destroy the entrance to the pass, trapping you like skeevers in here. Or the Jarl could always have your little 'operation' shut down if you refuse to be compliant."

Isran froze, they were right... He had borrowed a lot of money from the Jarl to jump start this vampire hunting operation, and now he was swimming in debt, but he wasn't going to let the Jarl command him like a dog.

"Well that would be her lose, now wouldn't it. We are protecting Skyrim from the vampire kind. But what proof do you have that Arela is the Dragonborn?" Isran questioned.

They were silent for a few moments before the man's voice shattered the still air. "Ask her brother, he's still here isn't he? I'm sure he will tell you the same thing. She is the Dragonborn, no matter how much you don't want it to be true."

"I might ask him then... But I'm insulted that bitch Maven thinks that my Dawnguard members are incapable of killing the Dragonborn."

"Well the Dragonborn is powerful, if you haven't heard. She has slayed dragons, and that is enough proof to the Jarl of her strength. But Maven was concerned about the Dawnguard's manpower; she doesn't think you have the strength to kill her. She thinks would lose too many people in the process."

Isran scowled at the two messengers. "And since when has Maven started caring about the Dawnguard? I thought she didn't care about anything but herself."

"Oh, you're wrong. She cares about cause and effect. She wants this taken care of, because this wild and crazy vampire Dragonborn could disrupt the equilibrium and that could affect her profits."

Isran unwrinkled the letter and reviewed the contents of it once again. Arela, that girl, that tiny girl was the Dragonborn? How could she have slayed dragons and Dragon Priests, especially with that bow? Isran couldn't wrap his head around it; he realized that it could be true, but how?

"So Maven wants me to hire assassins? Why doesn't she just hire them herself? She is a proud woman; wouldn't she want all the glory of killing the Dragonborn?"

"Because the Jarl and Maven agreed that you need to take care of this, the Dragonborn was turned into a vampire while in the Dawnguard, and under your watch. They think it is only appropriate that you take of this Isran."

Isran just stared at them, wishing he could get a good look at their faces. But he guessed they were two of Maven's cronies that were just milk drinkers too afraid to show their faces. Maven had the reputation of hiring the biggest scum in the Rift to do her dirty work.

As Isran looked at them he couldn't help but question who told them this information, how reliable was their source? He didn't want to rush in without the truth; Isran was never that careless.

"But how do you know she's a vampire? Who told you?" Isran inquired.

"We have very reliable sources. She chose vampirism, doesn't just sting your ego Isran? That your own members chose vampirism." They said with their voices sounding extremely sincere.

Isran spit at their boots, and watched as both of them stiffened. He could tell they wanted to kill him right there and then. But Maven must have told them to not do anything rash.

"Well, I'll consider their request. I just don't know how her brother is going to handle the news. But I'll think about it."

He was about to say his farewells, but then one more question floated into his mind. "Do you guys know anything about the Black Sacrament?"

There was a subtle pause; Isran could feel the tension hanging in the air, as the two strangers contemplated the question.

They both stood there like statues, but the hooded man slowly pulled a book from under his robes and tossed it to Isran, which he caught softly in his arms.

Isran examined the title, 'A Kiss, Sweet Mother'. He couldn't help but cringed at the titles name, he had seen this book before but it was considered a taboo; something the average person would curse at.

"Maven thought you might need it." The women commented quietly, as Isran bore his eyes into them.

The two messengers did a little bow. "We'll be off now, just make sure it gets done or Maven will be paying a visit, and it definitely won't be pleasant."

They turned around and banished themselves back to the forest, were their black robes mixed with the shadows, and they became invisible in the night.

Isran stood there for a minute not quite sure what to do, he was caught in a perpetual on slaughter of thoughts and questions.

Could he really order one of his members to be killed? He didn't really have an alternative at the moment.

First, he was unsure of who to tell about his predicament. Who could he trust keep this a secret? The only person that came to mind was Celann, but he had liked Arela, and surely he would take the news hard and Enden... Isran didn't even want to imagine how he would break the news to him. Maybe it would be better to just tell him his sister was dead, and he could avoid having to think his sister was a raving blood thirsty monster.

That boy would sink himself in unfathomable regret and guilt, blaming himself for what happened if he thought she was dead, but at least he wouldn't have to cope with shame of the whole situation if he discovered she chose to be a vampire.

Isran liked to consider himself an honest man, but this time the truth wasn't worth the hassle it would bring. Isran couldn't afford any trouble, he had worked too hard to assemble this Dawnguard and he definitely wasn't going to allow some stupid girl ruin it.

After weighing more of the options, Isran concluded to only tell Celann the whole truth and tell everyone else Arela had died in combat against the vampires.

Now Isran only wondered how he was going to subtly break the idea of performing the Black Sacrament to Celann.

Starting into the night sky, Isran sometimes wished the darkness would just consume him so he wouldn't have to deal with anymore shit.

* * *

When the two hood figures were far from view, they paused their pace. Stalf ripped off his cloak in a matter of seconds, but Salonia was more cautious in removing her hooded robes.

"That forged letter was brilliant Salonia." Stalf complemented.

"I thought so too. My visit to Riften ten years ago finally paid off." Salonia said with a cocky tone.

Stalf smiled, "Well, hopefully Arela will be dead before she reaches Red Water Den, we need that Blood Stone Chalice."

"Yes, I hope those assassins make quick work of her. I can't wait for the moment when we walk into the Castle carrying the Chalice. We will finally receive Harkon's gaze then." Salonia grinned with malice in her expression.

"I don't think Arela is powerful enough to kill trained assassins, the Dark Brotherhood has a reputation for being successful, well at least they did for hundreds of years."

Stalf gave Salonia a smirk. "Let us venture to Red Water Den now."

"Yes, let's."


	10. Unexpected Visitors

**[A/N]: Hey guys, this is the tenth chapter, and I'm absolutely pumped about this! :D I just want to thank you all for the follows, favorites and reviews, it truly does mean something to me!  
**

**This chapter is a bit longer, but I know you have all been waiting for this... so here we go...**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, though I frequently wish I did, these characters are Bethseda's work not mine. I'm just giving them the credit they deserve. But Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

**_~Paramore, Misery Business_**

**_Whoa, it was never my intention to brag  
To steal it all away from you now.  
But God does it feel so good,  
'Cause I got 'em where I want 'em now.  
And if you could then you know you would.  
'Cause God it just feels so...  
It just feels so good._**

* * *

Night was draped over the thick golden forests of the Rift. After days of slow meandering a long paths and roads, Arela had settled outside the rickety broken down shack that concealed the entrance to Redwater Den.

Picking a hill that slightly overlooked the encampment, Arela could scout around and observe the Den. She still wasn't sure how to enter. Should she rush in with a bombardment of arrows? Or should she sneak in, with her stealthy Nightingale boots?

This was not Arela's first time visiting this dangerous drug dealer's heaven.

Tonilia and Delvin had persuaded Arela to visit it once before, convincing her that the drug trade was quite lucrative and would help the Guild gain some much needed coin.

At the time Arela had just gained her position as Guild Master, and sadly had no experience at telling older members off. She never could stand the way Mercer had shut down at such great ideas that could have made the Guild heaps of coin, so Arela had kept her mind open to new ideas.

When Arela had first entered that Skooma Den a few years ago the security had been pitiful. But what had been appalling was the condition of the Den.

The floors had been slippery from being covered in vomit and all matters of bile. Arela swore that her nostrils had been damaged and burned from the stench of the place. The wafting scent of piss, skooma, vomit and death had inhabited the basement room. It had been so overpowering, it had caused her thought to become clouded and her vision distorted. The only thing that had kept her standing was she didn't want passing out on the vile floor, and waking up in other people's byproducts.

And after seeing the drug users with pale skin, sunken in eyes, missing teeth, and barely coherent Arela hadn't been able to force herself to talk to the drug runners. She had just left, and vowed to Delvin and Tonilia that her Guild would never get involved in such a putrid trade.

Arela shivered at the memory. The thought of returning back to Redwater Den left goosebumps on her ghostly skin. She just wanted to get this over with, and have Harkon off her back. Arela wished Serana was here to help her, this task was going to be challenging.

She already missed Serana, her bright eyes, the natural smiles and of course her sadistic sense of humor.

Arela smirked, what would Cynric think of her if he knew she was friends with Serana, a young and beautiful vampire. Oh it intrigued Arela to see what would happen if Serana and Arela visited the Guild.

Arela sat down and tossed her knapsack next to her, quickly taking inventory of her belongings: the Blood Stone Chalice, Guild boots - Arela never went anywhere without a spare pair- health and stamina potions, extra arrows, a dagger and at the bottom was Cynric's letter...

Arela picked it up slowly and examined it once more. Should she open it, or not?

She was torn at first, but the situation dawned on her. She was about to enter a den of drug lords, vampires and who knows what else. She could die within the next hour, so why not hear Cynric's possible last words to her.

She ripped open the letter without hesitation, and read his words as if she had starved of them.

_Hey Arela, you should back to the Guild sometime. I miss you, and for the record I think your a good Guild master, so I'm sorry about what I said._

_Yours Truly, _

_Cynric Endell_

Wow... She felt a pang of disappointment and a small amount of delight. She had expected something more extravagant, but the words _'Yours Truly'_ made her heart skip around in her chest.

The letter seemed so much like Cynric, he was often blunt in his words, not quite an articulate writer. No matter how much she wanted too, Arela wasn't planning to fawn over his letter; she had work to do. So she tucked it back into her backpack.

Arela started to swiftly pack, slipping some ebony daggers onto her belt for some quick defense, and gave Chillrend its special place in the leather holster that she held close to her side.

She rearranged thing in her bag, readying for her descent into Redwater Den. She gave the bag one last glance before forcing herself to get up.

As she stood up, Arela swore she heard a twig break behind her. All her senses started to explode as she whipped around just in time to see a shadowy silhouette from behind a tree.

Arela instinctively grasped her bow and notched an arrow into place with one unconscious motion.

"I know you're there, so come out with your hands up and I won't shoot you through the face with an arrow." Arela hissed, trying to keep her voice low, so not everyone in the whole Rift would hear her.

There was no response; the silence dragged out for a few seconds, and the night made it impossible to guess who it was.

"Oh damn those sticks." A women in dark robes walked out, her bright red eyes illuminating the darkness. Arela automatically recognized her.

"Serana is that you? What the hell are you doing wandering around in the woods?" Arela said, lowering her bow.

"Did you really expect me to stay in that castle another minute longer?" Serana challenged. "I hate it there."

"Serana, you need to go back now, this place is too dangerous for you. If you get hurt here I don't think I could forgive myself." Arela warned Serana, but Arela found it too difficult to become enraged at the young and enthusiastic vampire.

Serana smiled, "I can fight, you know? You've seen it before, I'm a necromancer, and a good one too."

"Yeah I know but, this place is disgusting. I'm telling you to turn around to protect your health."

Serana ignored Arela's comment and strutted right past her, making her way down the hill toward Redwater Den. "Oh really? Let me be the judge of that." Serana said with a slightly defiant tone.

Arela rolled her eyes, and threw her Nightingale bow back over her shoulder. She quietly picked up her knapsack and trudged right behind Serana's heels. Arela could sense this was going to be one long trip...

* * *

Serana and Arela had pushed their way through the Den; dealing with drug addicts, drug dealers and now finally they were starting to encounter vampires. Arela had forged ahead of Serana, simply because she had been able to sneak past the maze of traps in the previous catacomb.

Lightly pressing up against the wall, Arela could hear angry voices resonating in the cave ahead.

"We need to be careful, I have heard rumors... The Volkihar vampires are getting restless." The voice had an old scratchy tone. He was an ancient vampire... Maybe even a few thousand years old or even possibly older than Harkon and Serana.

"We don't need to worry about them Venarus... I can hardly believe that they consider themselves the imperial authority of all the vampires in Skyrim." A young women snidely remarked.

"I had the pleasure of living with them for a few hundred years..." The older vampire with the wispy replied. "But I left, the leader Lord Harkon nearly drove me insane. He was always so demanding and he had his favorites. I was terrified I might become one, they never lived too long..."

The young vampire ask, "Why...? Did he kill them?"

Venarus hesitated for a second before he spoke again. "No, he never did anything himself. The court politics usually kill them. If members got jealous, that was the end of you. Often the two advisers Orthjolf and Vingalmo would make them their pets and Harkon would usually order them to be killed... Harkon was a black heart... He had no compassion and loyalty was everything to him." The old vampire paused, "I think Harkon had killed forty of his 'favorites' over the few hundred years I lived there. So when he took an interest in my skill I knew I had to leave, so I fled to the Summerset Isles in hopes of leaving the past behind me."

Arela couldn't help but wonder, was she Harkon's new favorite? It was something that could be possible; after hearing that speech she prayed to Nocturnal that Harkon didn't value her. But after he discovered that she was the Dovahkiin it was improbable that Harkon didn't believe she was a weapon he could use to keep the court members in line.

Arela despised the thought of being turned into a tool; she wasn't going to let Harkon manipulate her. Harkon may be the leader of the Volkihar vampires but without Arela his power was limited, all she needed was some leverage over him and his control over the court would slip through his fingers like sand.

Arela had plenty of time to think about defying Harkon later, currently she needed to shake Harkon from her thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

She had to find a good vantage point where she could shower theleader Venarus and his followers with arrows. Arela swore Nocturnal was on her side as she slid in the chamber and saw a ledge with only one skelton guarding it. Arela knew she could take him out with ease.

Arela silently removed her dagger from the holster in her boot; she hugged the shadows as she made her way up the incline to the rocky and jagged outlook.

Arela crept up behind the skeleton, and she quickly stabbed the dagger through the back of its skull; a sickening crack of breaking bone shook the air, alerting the vampires of Arela's presences.

"What was that?" The young female vampire said as she rose from the table below Arela. But before she could utter another word Arela's arrow pierced her throat, which silenced her forever. She pulled out an arrow ready for her second shot. But she stopped.

The old vampire named Venarus was smiling at her from a throne in the middle of the cave. "Well, well, speak of the devil. It's a Volkihar vampire. Are you doing Harkon's bidding?"

"I wouldn't call it bidding, I'm just here to do a job." Arela lied, she didn't want to be labeled as a pawn because Harkon had nothing over her.

Venarus scoffed, "You can't lie to me, Harkon only uses his court members as pets. I was with the Volkihar for a few centuries. I was able to shake them before I was forced to become Harkon's bitch, but I see you have filled the position for me."

Arela hissed, "Shut up! I'm only here to fill the Blood Stone Chalice, so get out of my way!"

He looked purely shocked at her declaration. "What did you say?"

"I'm here to fill the Blood Stone Chalice." Arela yelled. Was he deaf or dumb, or did he forget how to use his legs?

Arela pulled an arrow back in her bow. "I'll give you one last warning move or you're died!"

"I've been looking for the Blood Stone Chalice for five hundred years...and this whole time Harkon had it? But now it's here..." The old vampire looked pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah, now leave or I kill will you!" Arela declared.

In a blur of motion, Venarus was gone. Arela knew vampires were fast but how was it even possible, or was he gifted she wondered.

She kept her arrow ready to fire, but she closed her eyes. Arela let her ears take over; sensitive hearing was a godsend.

She allowed her keen ears to stretch out over the whole chamber, picking up the sounds of the red water trickling down the drain, and the whispers of a breeze that entered through a small hole in the ceiling of the cave.

Then a dark voice rang out of the shadows, "Lord Harkon must have mentioned that some of the Volkihar have rare abilities... And I was lucky enough to inherit one. My speed is unmatched by any vampire."

Arela's eyes snapped open just in time to see Venarus jump at her from the ceiling of the cave; his eyes were blood thirsty.

"I need that Blood Stone Chalice and I'm going to take it from your dead body!"

Arela hardly had time to react as he crashed into her. She smacked her head on the rock wall behind her and her body was pinned to the ground. Venarus landed on Arela, forcing the remaining air in her lungs out.

Arela throw her arm up into Venarus's trachea as his teeth ravenously tried to sink into her neck. She was able to push him away with just enough force that he flew off, leaving Arela time to quickly grab the small daedric dagger out of her boot.

Venarus had regained his vigor and lunged at her neck. As he did so Arela stabbed her dagger into his chest. His own momentum driving the dagger deeper into his body.

Venarus gasped in shock, as his blood spilled all over Arela's Nightingale armour. Her hands were wet from his blood slithering down the hilt and her grip on the weapon nearly slipped. His blood was colder than ice, even her frost resistant fingers were becoming numb.

"No... This can't be possible... You're a new blood..." He croaked out as he grabbed Arela's hands that were placed on the hilt of the dagger. Venarus's eyes were glazed with pain and he knew this was the end for him.

"Let me warn you new blood... You're not safe around Harkon, he has a powerful gift, I know it. It's something you won't be able to outrun new blood. So get out of the Volkihar clan while you still can..." Venarus whispered before his body went limp. His cryptic words rang in her brain.

What did he know about Harkon that she didn't...? What was that suppose to mean? Was Harkon really that powerful? Arela had just assumed Harkon had been waving around his inflated ego, but if Venarus was right how safe was Castle Volkihar?

Arela pushed Venarus off her, and there was a loud thud as his body hit the floor. Out of Venarus' pocket fell a key. Arela slowly picked it up and examined it.

"Hey, are you there Serana?" Arela shouted out.

"Yeah... I'll be there is a second..." Serana stumbled into the chamber, but quickly regained her footing. "Damn traps, sorry about falling behind, I'm not quite as agile as a thief I guess."

Serana shot Arela a weird look as she watched blood drip down her body, but then she notice Venarus. "What happened to you, you're covered in blood?"

"It's a long story." Arela said bluntly. Arela's nerves were frazzled, she could hardly hold her dagger as she slipped it back in her boot. Trying to walk in a straight line, Arela made her way down the rocky ledge.

Below the outlook was a Nordic styled door, Arela started to make her way to the only door and with her adrenalin shaken hands she jammed the key into the keyhole, she wsd surprised that it was a match.

Arela and Serana took a few steps in and looked around. This cave was different with rocky pillars and stalactites dripping from the ceiling. The cave walls were tainted a light red color, and in the center was a geyser of crimson water.

So this was the bloodspring that Garan had referred to. He had mentioned that the blood of a powerful vampire need to be added to it.

Serana frowned, "There it is... Which means this adventure is nearing its end."

"Don't worry Serana, I'm sure there will be plenty more. Your father definitely won't be letting us have much of a break." Arela exclaimed, and Serana's spirit seemed to darken a bit at the mention of her father. But Arela went back to surveying the cave.

From the look of it Venarus had been feeding vampires to the spring for a while. White limbs were floating in the red pools of water. Some rib cages were bobbing near the fountain, and Arela couldn't help but judge the sanity of the vampires that lived here.

Arela quickly pulled the Chalice from her satchel and filled it to the brim with red water. The only problem now was how was she going to get the filled Chalice Castle Volkihar, without all the blood water spilling out?

A sly smile formed on Arela's face as she pulled out her old pair of Thieves Guild boots. Dumping the contents into the boots and buckled them shut, Arela smiled. Those boots held out water, so she figured they could hold water in too.

"Very clever." Serana said with astonishment laced in her words.

"I thought so too." Arela was so happy to be done with this damn mission.

Arela stuffed the Blood Stone Chalice and boots back into her satchel and made her way toward the opposite end of the room, where two carved arch ways were located. Nordic chamber always had exits on the opposite side of a chamber.

But as they made their way over, Arela picked up the sound of footsteps.

Stalf and Salonia stalked up from beneath the archways, their eyes filled with poison and pure greed.

Salonia smiled wickedly. "It's really too bad, you know. The little... Accident you had here... It was completely unexpected." Her voice sounded like a predator stalking her prey.

"Yeah, too bad. Lord Harkon's new favorite, dead so soon after joining the family." Stalf chimed in cooly.

"Wait I'm Lord Harkon's favorite?!" Arela panic rising her voice. "I can't be..."

"Oh yes of course, after that little stunt with Feran, displaying to us that you are the Dragonborn."

"Oh yes and Arela and we are going to kill you, but the worst part is Lady Serana gets to watch us rip you limb from limb." Salonia crackled.

"I will be fighting to the death with Arela." Serana interjected her tone nothing more than a snarl.

"Lady Serana, you choose the wrong side, we will be winning this fight." Salionia's word brought Arela back to reality. Her eyes were cold, and they were entirety fixated on Arela.

There was going to be a fight. There was no doubt in Arela's mind, Stalf and Salonia were on a path of vengeance and the only end they saw was her dead. She dropped her knapsack into the red water and slipped her Nightingale bow off her back; waiting for the sign that they were ready to engage in combat.

"Now where were we... Oh yes, how lucky was I to be able to return the Chalice to Vingalmo, so he could make sure Harkon gets it back." Salonia stated.

Stalf looked at her utterly shocked. "Wait, what? That's not what we agreed. We were going to take it back together." Stalf sneered.

Salonia rolled her eyes, "Idiot. You didn't really think I would let you walk out of her alive either, did you? Vingalmo wants all three of you dead."

"Well that's just fine, Orthjolf told me to finish off anyone that got in the way." Stalf replied with a hurt tone.

"Oh, are your feelings hurt because I love Vingalmo? Our friendship was nothing to me." Salonia smirked with an expression as cold as ice.

Stalf growled, "I never liked you anyways, Hestla was always better than you!"

"Sure... you are just trying to bury your pain." Salonia spat, she was definitely hurt by that comment no matter how much she denied it.

"I'm not hurt at all! You will be the one in pain!" Stalf screamed in fury as he conjured out flames that danced in his palms.

Without hesitation Arela grasped an arrow from her quiver and aimed. But Serana stepped in front of her, cutting off Arela's shot.

Serana summoned two icy spears and shot them directly at Stalf.

The spears were too slow, giving Stalf time to step aside as the ice crashed on the wall behind. Stalf left no time for Serana to recover, quickly shooting out two fireball in Serana's direction. But Serana threw up a ward to block them.

Serana had been right, she was a good mage, shooting spells left and right; locked in an epic battle with Stalf.

Arela turned to Salonia who was gripping an iron battleaxe, deliberately stalking around her in a leisure pace.

"You may think you're strong little Dragonborn, but you haven't been a vampire long enough to beat me."

"I've killed dragons before Salonia, do you really think you stand a chance against me?" Arela thundered, letting her Th'umm run wild with her words.

"Well, let's see who's right, shall we?" Salonia charged straight for Arela. There was little time to react as Arela threw down her bow and withdrew Chillred just in time to block Salonia's first strike.

The blow contained so much force Arela stumbled backwards, but regained her footing just in time to block another relentless attack.

The attacks continued in a timely rhythm; patiently Arela waited for an opening. Salonia used her brute force often to try and cause Arela to lose her footing. But soon Arela's patients was rewarded, she saw Salonia swing her battle axe high in the air to try and gain more momentum. Without hesitation Arela smacked her Nightingale boot straight into Salonia's stomach knocking the wind right out of her.

Salonia backed up ten feet while charging sparks in her palm, preparing to release a lightning strike.

Arela grabbed one of the daggers on her belt, and without another thought seized her opportunity to catch Salonia off guard. With as much force as Arela could muster, she threw the dagger, and was pleased the moment it found its mark in Salonia's left shoulder.

Salonia shrieked and gripped her shoulder in agony, crumpling down to her knees. "You dumb bitch!" Salonia howled.

Not wanting her to recover, Arela ran forward plunging Chillrend right through her heart.

"Go to Oblivion Salonia, that's where you belong." Arela sneered kicking Salonia in the chest to withdraw her sword from her body.

Arela smiled as Salonia fell stiffly onto the ground with a deafening thud.

"No!" Stalf shouted; Arela turned to him and could have sworn she witnessed tears rise in his eyes, but the look didn't last long, because he turned to Arela with an ominous glare.

Serana had been locked in battle with him, but had become distracted with the commotion of Salonia's death.

Stalf took advantage of that by smashing his fist of charged lightning squarely into Serana's chest.

Serana was launched backwards, and smashed her skull on the side of a stalactite. Arela watched in horror as Serana laid there still and motionless, her breath was ragged as if she was choking.

Stalf ignored Serana, summoning flames in his hands once again and set them blazing after Arela.

Left with no choice, she rolled behind a small rock pillar as hot flares smashed directly into her arm. Arela moaned in pain as she rolled into the sand behind the pillar. Fireballs reigned down on her from either side of the rocky support.

The rock in front of her was slammed into by and inferno of fire turning the stone into molten chunks of rock. Arela was absolutely trapped like a rat there was no where to go, and there was no back up.

There was only one way out of this... a distraction. Arela ripped the broached pins off her Nightingale cape. It was painful taking it off knowing she to serve up her cape for a distraction. She could hear Stalf's footsteps closing in on her through the raging sound of fire.

Arela tossed her cape to the right side, and Stalf ate the bait instantly, as he conjured up a fiery storm that blasted the cape to shreds.

Arela appeared from the left side of the of the stone pillar, like a sabre cat stalking prey. "Good-bye Stalf." Arela muttered before sucking in a huge intake of air.

"_FUS RO DAH_!" A snapping noise blocked the sound of the thunderous roar, as Stalf's neck and spine shattered from the blow. His body sailed through the cave feebly, as he was smashed against the wall, cracking the rest of his bones.

But Arela didn't care, she rushed over, grabbed her backpack that was covered in red water.

She knelt before Serana. Arela noticed Serana's labored breaths which meant she was still alive.

But through Serana's neat black hair, her head was bleeding, as thick crimson blood trickled from a gushing wound on the back of her skull.

Arela searched her bag and pulled out two health potions. Ripping off the cap, Arela poured the contents down Serana's throat, but Serana was still unresponsive, just laying there in silence. Her eye were twitching back in forth under her eyelids, as if searching for Arela in her unconscious state.

Panic rose in Arela; she didn't have much skill in the art of restoration, just some basic healing from some wizard in Riften. Serana needed medical attention, the kind Arela couldn't perform. Arela picked Serana up and threw her over her shoulder, rushing her out of the cave.

"I have to get you back to Castle Volkihar... now..." Arela whisper in dread.


	11. Patience of a Daedra

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I released this chapter earlier, because I'm really excited about this one. I did something slightly different; the whole chapter is from Harkon's perspective. I spent some time thinking it out, and I even gave Harkon a realistic back story, but of course not the whole story... still I hope you guys like it.**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series or Bethesda so I'm just giving them the credit they deserve, but Arela and Enden are my characters.**

* * *

_**~Chris Cornell, You Know My Name**_

_**If you come inside, things will not be the same, when you return to my night  
If you think you've won, you never saw me change  
The game that we have been playing**_

_**I've seen diamonds cut through harder men**_  
_**Than you yourself, but if you must pretend**_  
_**You may meet your end**_

_**Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you**_  
_**The odds will betray you, and I will replace you**_  
_**You can't deny the prize; it may never fulfill you**_  
_**It longs to kill you, are you willing to die, the coldest blood runs through my veins**_

_**You know my name.**_

* * *

This afternoon was like every other afternoon in Castle Volkihar; the halls were silent and most members had retired for the day.

But Harkon never slept, there was no need to when he could stay awake with minimal effort, and lack of sleep had stopped effecting him long ago. He saw no purpose in sleeping when it was unnecessary; he preferred to sit and reminiscing in his achievements.

And as of late he was extremely restless, with the prophecy finally falling into place there was too much to mull over, and quite often Harkon found his mind wandering, especially toward his newest member... Arela.

Harkon couldn't deny it; he was intrigued by Arela. She had a dark persona which he could sense; for he had it too: the shady look in her eyes on occasion, her anger that lashed out, and her odd stubbornness that took over was enough evidence.

She claimed she wasn't a tool to be commanded, but the irony was she did exactly as she was told. He had sat idly by, watching while Arela desperately tried to keep herself from drowning in his hierarchy. He could tell she was use to having her opinion heard, and it was amusing to watch when she became frustrated because no one listened to her. She wasn't use to being a new blood.

Leaning back in his throne; Harkon took a sip from his silver goblet that was enlaced with gems. Though the goblet was extravagant, the contents of blood was bland in flavor; but so was all blood as of late. The memory of turning Arela still sat fresh in his mind, dominating his thoughts.

The warm touch of her human flesh he swore had left searing marks on his pale hands; her smell had been enchanting, and her powerful eyes could rival his own. But that wasn't what unsettled Harkon the most.

The taste of her blood still bloomed in his memories, scratching at his subconscious mind and his desires. Her blood had been something so different and unexpected, and he ached for more. That was what unnerved him.

He had never experienced anything like the taste of Arela's fiery blood. He could still recall the warm burning it left in his mouth, like powerful brandy that was so potent it had scorch every fiber in his body. The only thing that her blood was comparable with was toxic alcohol; something Harkon hadn't drank in thousands of years.

Blood was very different, it was a pure entity, refreshing and rejuvenating; but Arela's blood had been all consuming, like he had been engulfed in flames. That was why Harkon let her live. He had known she was unique.

After discovering Arela was the Dragonborn everything had seemed to made perfect sense to him; she had dragon blood, something so rare that it was thought to be nonexistent since the time of Tiber Septim.

How he yearned for just one more taste of her blood. But he was a master of self restraint, and there was no way he was going to allow a forbidden lust for her, win over his common sense.

He had more pressing issues to worry about; the prophecy was the one thing that needed to be completed, and at whatever cost he was required to pay. Harkon would sell his soul to the rest of the daedra, if it meant he could finally be a true ruler of the night, and the Tyranny of the Sun would end.

The thought of proving Valerica wrong was also quite motivating, as a cold ghostly smirk surfaced on his lips.

How he craved for the chance to snap Valerica's neck. But of course the gods had played a cruel trick on him; his relationship with Valerica was another example of how arranged marriages never prevailed. He had need a wife that was submissive and quiet, but those were never among the traits she possessed.

Harkon cursed his father everyday for his failure to foresee this terrible ending. Valerica's family had encompassed a large fortune, and Harkon's desperate father had jumped on the chance to get him a rich and civilized wife.

The title his family had gained was the main catalyst for enticed the arrangement to be sealed. Titles back then had been almost as powerful as riches, giving respect and infinite honor. Even if the title had been knighted upon Harkon's family in an age long forgotten, to a powerless High King.

At first their marriage had seemed normal, as they acted like star crossed lovers that had finally found their missing half. But slowly he allowed money to get between them, as Harkon had used Valerica's fortune to climb to the status of a king. He had bought this castle with Valerica's fortune, and raised an army claiming lands and cities in his name.

But with all the power came the responsibility of maintaining and ruling a vast domain, something Harkon had become quite skilled at while being human.

Over time Valerica became impatient, not allowing Harkon to be excused from family duties.

She eventually had created an ultimatum for him, demanding kids and Harkon had given her the one thing she wanted; a child. Sadly for the sake of succession it had been a daughter, but Harkon hadn't complained. Serana had been the greatest gift to him.

Valerica finally had a companion, and she stayed out of Harkon's business. Allowing him unrestricted freedom, and over the ages he used it wisely.

In his whole life there was one thing he had retained from his childhood, and it was his worship of Molag Bal. Valerica willingly had inherited Molag Bal for the sake of pleasing Harkon. But overtime she had become zealously in her worship of The Prince of Domination, and it was been the only thing that had tied them together, but their loyalty to each other had been tested long ago...

And now here he sat, thousands of years later, alone. With a resentful daughter and a missing but begrudged and malevolent wife, wishing he was dead.

Harkon shifted in his throne, there wasn't much left to consider. He just wished Arela would hurry and bring him the Blood Stone Chalice. Not that he even needed the Chalice; Harkon knew it would offer him very little strength. But reviving the Chalice had been a befitting test for Arela.

When she returned he would finally unveil the prophecy to her, and Harkon was intrigued to know Arela's reaction to this. She would most definitely become his most valuable treasure in fulfilling it.

He stared into the fire; it was a waiting game from now on, and as of now Arela would be the one he was waiting on.

* * *

After three days there was finally a sign of Arela; loud booming in the dining hall indicated her return, and Harkon could hear Arela's voice splitting the air. For some reason she was crying out for help.

The Lord had been idly sitting on his throne for days waiting for the damn reckless redhead to show her face.

He had starting to get irritated with this waiting already. But the sound of her wailing fractured every last sense of patience and calmness he had retained.

He sensed members were rushed to Arela, he could hear their calls, as they argued amongst themselves.

The shrieking pierced the thick air of his castle and he could tell something was wrong; he even contemplated getting up, but eventually decided against it.

He just sat suspended, finally coming to the realization someone else would take care of the complication. He was the Lord of this castle, and he wasn't required to solve the problems of his underlings.

Arela would come to confront him soon enough... So he patiently sat there drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne. Waiting...

* * *

A few hours had passed since Arela's return. He found it irritating; all the waiting was nearly pushing him over the edge of his sanity. Only an hour ago he had instructed Garan to assemble the court in the dining hall.

He was still patiently anticipating Arela's visit, hours had dwindled away, and still he sat drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne.

Lord Harkon sat for another few minutes before he heard footsteps outside the door. They were nothing more than muffled shuffling sound. It was the sound of a thief. He knew quite well it was Arela.

After a minute, Arela had gained the courage to enter, opening the door slowly, entering, and closing it behind her without a sound.

Harkon's eyes analyzed Arela; her odd midnight black armor was coated in layers of dried blood, and her black cape was absent. The armor was scorched in certain spots, and her skin was even exposed, as angry burns were laced visibly and abundantly on her right arm.

She slowly removed her hood and sat down in the seat next to him.

Arela's molten red eyes were blank and her body language expressed a lacking desire to listen to his words.

Her ginger hair fell down like tendrils along her face, contrasting her pale skin, which glowed in the soft light from the fire place. She bared the look of an angelic god, even Mara couldn't have denied she was beautiful.

How he wondered what Arela would be like if she were a pure blooded vampire like him. Could she still hold such beauty?

After what seemed like a minute Harkon was able to find his voice. "Ah, you are here, good and in one piece. How was your trip to Redwater Den, interesting I presume?"

It was as if his word had turned on a switch; anger flared in Arela's eyes. "It was awful, I nearly died a few times, but that isn't what bothered me... It's Serana."

Harkon had been letting his thoughts drift, but Serana's name shot him back to reality. "What about my daughter?"

Arela was biting her lip nervously; she was holding something back, and now Harkon wanted to know. "Well... There was an accident, she was launched back by Stalf, and smashed her head... But she seems fine now."

"What!" He could control the rage that was flowing through him. "She went to Redwater Den!"

"Yeah..." He watched, Arela was sinking back in her chair shamefully.

"I told her specifically to not follow you!" Harkon stood up and grabbed Arela by the scruff.

Her eyes narrowed at him, challenging him, her gaze digging into his flesh. But he wasn't going to allow her to intimidate him; he was much stronger than her.

"Why didn't you send her back here?" He had very little control over his elevated voice. Serana was the last family he had left, and if she possibly died over this gods forsaken Chalice, he was going to have Arela's head for it.

"I tried! She wouldn't hear it. You know her better than me, she's stubborn."

It was true, Serana was stubborn. She rarely listened to a word he said. Not ever Valerica had been able to tame her.

Harkon let Arela go, and returned to sitting in his throne. Instead he started to rub his temples, he could feel a headache forming behind his eyes.

"How did this happen?" He asked anger shaking his words.

"Stalf did it. But maybe if you kept your members on a leash, then they wouldn't be running around trying to kill us!" Arela snapped.

He had forgot about Stalf and Salonia's vendetta against her. In truth Harkon had hoped those two would fail. He had learned of their disloyalty to him recently, and he was glad Arela had alleviate them from his list of impending problems.

"Well, I judge they didn't kill you and Serana. So watch your tongue, have you forgotten who you serve?" He could hardly believe the audacity of this girl.

Arela stood up, her eyes were a swirling angry torrent. "Oh, I remember who I serve, Lady Nocturnal that's who I serve. You, I just take your orders into consideration." Arela spat.

"How dare you! You may be the Dragonborn but that doesn't mean I won't think twice about punishing you." The Lord sneered. "Now sit down."

He watched as Arela reluctantly complied, with a disgruntled look painted on her face. She gazed down at her arm, examining the burns; quickly covered them with her hand in a self conscious manner. Harkon knew those burns would become nasty scars if left untreated.

"Give me your arm." He demanded.

"What? No!" Arela squeezed the raw skin; reacting with a wince.

"Stop being so damn stubborn." Leaning over his throne Harkon forcefully grabbed her damaged wrist. Arela groaned in pain, he could feel her wither under his touch.

Focusing, Harkon conjured a blazing healing spell. He brushed it across her skin, which left a faint tingling sensation on his palm.

Harkon felt his brow automatically furrowing. It was odd, this girl had such an effect on him; her mysterious aura made him tentative. She was a thief and they had a reputation of being very unreliable, and his lack of control over her vexed him to no end. He silently vowed he would gain control, it was only a matter of time until he got an inkling of something he could use against her, he would cease it in that moment. The thought of hurting Arela's pride by making her submissive amused Harkon.

He watched the light dance across Arela's delicate skin, causing the burns to recede. Once the worst of the burns had dissipated Harkon skimmed his hand over the healed flesh. Her new skin was surprisingly soft, but he released his grip on her arm.

He watched as Arela examined the once burned flesh. There wasn't even a mark on her, it was perfectly flawless once again. She ran her hand over the healed skin, as a sigh of relief escaped her lips.

"Thank you..." Arela's voice drifted to him. "Where did you learn to heal like that?"

"I have lived the life span of a dozen men, you acquire such spells over time." He said curtly.

"Now may we focus on the task at hand?" He stated impatiently.

Arela gave him a slow nod, while still rubbing her arm.

Harkon sighed but continued. "When I told you I was grateful for my daughter's safe return I told the truth, but I did not tell you everything."

"I suspected as much." Arela said quietly.

"Good. I knew there was something I liked about you... Strong instincts and a cunning mind will serve you as well as blade, spell or claw." Harkon commented, fighting back a wryly smirk.

Arela looked utterly perplexed. "Is that a compliment? Or did I just imagine that?"

Harkon fought a strong overpowering smirk. "I'll let you guess. Now as you know, vampires are powerful, but we have limits. Our great enemy is the sun, and until recently it's an enemy we have had no way to fight." He said with a frustrated tone, this very issue vexed him.

"For centuries I searched for an answer to this problem. I found an old prophecy written by a Moth Priest, those scholars that read the Elder Scrolls. The prophecy tells of a time in which vampires will gain power over the sun, and will no longer fear its tyranny."

"And how does this involve me? Do you expect me to read it or what?" Arela frowned.

"No, I believe the secret to unraveling that prophecy may be written in Serana's Elder Scroll. I have ordered the court to assemble. I have a new task for us all to carry out, and that includes _you_."

"I would also like it if you might stand at my side during this speech. It is the greatest honor I can award you for your service. Now come and hear my proclamation." Harkon pushed himself out of his throne, slowly making his way toward the closed door.

Before he could react, Arela bolted in front of him. He had to admit she was fast.

"I want to know the truth. Why honor me?" Arela said curiously, blocking him from the door. "I mean I'm just one member that has only proven she can kill, and every member here can do that."

The Lord released a wicked smile upon his face, slowly he stepped toward Arela, closing the small gap between them.

He watched as Arela backed up slightly, and Harkon witnessed fear rise in her orange eyes as she realized there was nowhere to go. She had trapped herself with the closed door blocking her escape.

Taking advantage of her vulnerability, The Lord grabbed her jaw, squeezing tightly against her the side of her jaw; forcing Arela to look him.

He was enjoying as panic exploded in her eyes, as she wildly thrashed for control. He smiled, leaning more into her; pinning her against the door, not even allowing her to struggle,

"What are you doing?!" Arela mumbled, her words slurred by his grip on her jaw.

"Listen to my words." He commanded.

Lord Harkon smiled before unleashing his voice upon her, "You may put on the faҫade that you're strong Arela, but I can see through it. I _know_ you fear me. How ironic that most people here are terrified of you. But I can see you're weak, internally, of course. I can fix that though. When I'm done with you, you won't feel pain, fear or powerless anymore." Harkon couldn't help but flash her a sinister look.

Harkon tilted her head slightly closely examining Arela's face as she fought for control of her own body; he could feel her accelerated heartbeat in his fingertips, as they clenched into her flesh.

"But I want others to fear you; if they don't already. You are worth showing off to the court, you are similar to a trophy, Arela. The most powerful member I have collected in thousands of years."

Harkon said; he released Arela from his grip.

She collapsed on the floor; shock was spilling over in her expression as he let her go. He pushed her out of the way, not really caring about Arela's reaction.

He opened the door, and walked away feeling slightly satisfied. Oh, how he had great expectations for Arela. She was going to fulfill this prophecy for him, and make him the most powerful man alive; and that thought made him smile.

* * *

**[A/N]: Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews would be greatly appreciated for this chapter, I'm just curious to see what people think of Harkon. Thank you for reading! :D**


	12. Like Father, Like Daughter

**[A/N]: Hey guys, this chapter is coming out much earlier than I expected. I was sadly sick, and stayed home from school. So... I just typed this out in my spare time. There is a small amount of overlap from last chapter, but I think it fits into the chapter well.**

**Also I updated my profile, and I have an idea for a new fic. Check it out if you got time, it's under 'Upcoming Fictions' and send me a PM or put it in your review if you're interested in my new venture. **

**Well, enough talk let's get this chapter started! Enjoy! :)  
**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't have rights to the Elder Scroll Series that is the expertise of Bethesda, but Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Jet, Look What You've Done**_

_**Oh, look what you've done  
You've made a fool of everyone  
Oh well, it seems like such fun  
Until you lose what you had won**_

* * *

Panic rose in Arela, Harkon's close proximity was causing her to back up just for some space. Her meeting with Harkon had definitely not turned out the way she had expected, and now she was regretting stepping in front of him.

Arela felt her back smash against the door behind her, but her fear elevated as he grabbed her face.

Harkon squeezed her cheeks in his hand, forcing Arela to focus on his eyes; those golden eyes that were so fierce and dark. She couldn't break her gaze from them, they had her mesmerized, trapped in a dangerous and possibly unbreakable spell.

Arela struggled under his grip, she wasn't going to let him control her, especially not without a fight. She thrashed under his grasp in a desperate attempt to regain her freedom.

Without warning, Harkon shoved himself against her, pinning her to the door. It shocked Arela, as an unintentional gasp escaped her lips. She could feel his body, from every perfectly etched muscle, to his slow heartbeat, and his rhythmic breaths beneath his extravagant armour.

"What do you think you're doing?" Arela murmured; her voice sounded weak and slurred in her head.

"Listen to my words." Harkon said, his voice rushing into her ears; twisting around in her disorganized thoughts.

Arela squirmed viciously fighting for just a few inches of personal space. But Harkon responded with a tightening grip on her face; he jerked her head to the right, his eyes burning into her face, scrutinizing her appearance.

"You may put on the faҫade that you're strong Arela, but I can see through it. I know you fear me. How ironic that most people here are terrified of you. But I can see you're weak, internally, of course. I can fix that though. When I'm done with you, you won't feel pain, fear or powerless anymore." Harkon couldn't help but flash her a sinister look, displaying one of his pearly white fangs.

"But I want others to fear you; if they don't already. You are worth showing off to the court, you are similar to a trophy, Arela. The most powerful member I have collected in thousands of years." His words dug into her mind, striking fear in her heart. She didn't want to stop feeling pain and fear. They were undesirable emotions, but those emotions made her feel human still, and if Arela had to cling to them she would.

Unexpectedly, Harkon pushed her out of his way, causing Arela to hit the wall behind the door. By the time she regained her balance Harkon had exited, and he had left Arela confused and slightly shaken.

Sinking to the floor, Arela felt powerless, as waves of shock washed over her. She had let Harkon dominate her, and she had been unable to stop him.

She had always felt so empowered by the Dragon Blood, but now realization washed over her, it meant nothing against people like Harkon.

Unless she was planning on killing Harkon, her Shouts were nothing but a false strength; a strength she could add to her growing rѐsumѐ of odd gifts, such as her Nightingale Stealth, and her Vampire Lord abilities. And her odd gifts were what got her into this predicament. She was set so far apart from the average member, and that was why Harkon watched her carefully.

Just the thought of Harkon gave her such mixed feelings; he thought of her as a damn trophy; as if she was some fancy sword he could brandish about! Arela scowled madly, trying to fight the surfacing anger.

But at the same time she felt revered; Harkon's words had made her feel significant, and in the dark corner of her mind she felt oddly desired by an untouchable man. A man everyone respected out of fear, but Arela couldn't find the strength to hate him like Serana did.

Arela pulled herself up, shivering as the memory of Harkon reappeared. She collected the shattered fragments of herself off the floor, and now slowly she was putting everything back in place.

Arela examined her attire; her armour was tattered all over her right arm, and blood had made residency on every inch of her Nightingale armour. Arela let out a sorrowful sigh, before trudging out of Harkon's room.

In the hallway on the left side of his room was the balcony, where Harkon was standing, patiently waiting for Arela to take the spot next to him.

Forcing her legs to move, Arela strutted over, silently took her place at Harkon's side. His eyes flashing a dominant look toward her. His gold gaze burned with a bright desire and Arela almost fell into the trap of returning his stare.

That moment seemed to last so long, their gaze seemed to be unbreakable, and Arela realized the whole court was watching their tentative stares, but thank the divines that Lord Harkon finally broke it, as he turned away from Arela, to take his place on the balcony overlooking the court.

"Scions of the night! Hear my word!" His voice left an echoing roar through the hall.

"The prophesied time is at last upon us. Soon we will claim dominion over the sun itself, and forge a new realm of eternal darkness." Harkon's words thundered over the members, but they left a very distinct chill in Arela.

"Now that I have reclaimed one of my Elder Scrolls, we must find a Moth Priest to read it. I have spread false rumors about the discovery of an Elder Scroll in Skyrim to lure a Moth Priest here." He said, as he laced pride into his words. Arela rolled her eyes under her hood; Harkon was just so cocky.

"Now it is time to see if those efforts have born fruit. Go forth, and search the land for rumors of a Moth Priest within our borders. Look to the cities. Speak to innkeepers, carriage drivers, anyone who would meet a traveler."

"Go now and carry out this task! This is my command!" Harkon yelled with a predominant tone.

He spun around to stare at Arela, hints of insanity locked into his gold eyes.

From the balcony Arela watched everyone else scatter like rats. The funny thing was only one member had actually left the castle; it had been Malkus. He was the only Orc vampire around here. Serana had mentioned that he was extremely reserved, which only meant he was hiding something.

It wasn't long before Arela and Harkon were standing together, alone, as an awkward silence hung over them like dark storm clouds.

But of course Harkon was brave and broke the stillness. "I must speak with my daughter." Harkon's blunt order snapped Arela back to reality.

"Yeah, she is in her room, sleeping. Do you want me to take you there?" Arela asked nervously.

"Yes, take me there." He said starchily, pulling his hands behind his back, like an officer.

* * *

Serana's room was in the lone wing on the northeastern portion of the castle. Arela had dragged Serana here after their return from Redwater Den. Serana was currently resting, recuperating after Garan had healed the gash on her head.

Arela loved Serana's room. It was cozy and comforting, with the small fireplace, that wasn't lite yet, and bookshelves overflowing with volumes of romance stories. She even had her own enchanting table and alchemy lab.

Arela was still soaking in the details of Serana's room. She had her own planters for growing alchemy ingredients or flowers. But the most prominent feature was the king sized bed. How she slept in such a big bed was beyond Arela's comprehension.

Harkon seemed to be taking note of the calm environment, his eyes were whisking over all the decorations and details.

"It's been a long time since I've been here." He muttered quietly, taking one of the chairs at Serana's desk and placing it near her bed.

Arela slowly walked over to Serana's bed. She was spread out, laying there absorbed in deep sleep.

Arela gently shook Serana shoulder, hoping to break her from her heavy rest.

Serana finally stirred from her thick sleep. She ran a hand over her hair that was sleep stricken, and her orange eyes were watery. Serana leaned up just enough to look at Arela who was hovering over her. "What do you want?" Serana said groggily.

"Your father wanted to speak with you." Arela whispered to her, trying hard to be gentle with Serana in her fragile state, but it was futile.

Serana's face darkened, as her dark hair fell in front of her face just enough to cast a shadow over her red eyes the moment she noticed Harkon sitting near her bed. He was seated in a very formal style, as if ready to give another speech.

"Arela, you should leave." Serana said, her voice was crisp, all the sleepiness had been driven away.

Harkon frowned, but nodded at Arela. "Yes Arela, you should leave me and Serana, we have matters to discuss." The look in both their eyes was cold and vicious, as if they were preparing for a battle to the death.

"Oh... Ok." Arela backed out slowly and closed the door behind her.

Making her way down the long stairs that lead up to Serana's room, Arela could still hear angry arguing of the father and daughter.

"Father how could you be so unreasonable!? There was no reason why I shouldn't have been allowed to shadow her, she is strong. You sensed it when you first saw her. Arela has power no other can match, I wanted to be with her... for retrieving the Blood Stone Chalice, of course." Serana's voice was like blazing fire, ripping through Arela's mind.

Even at the bottom of the steps Arela could still hear their argument; she was very curious, she wanted to know what they were fighting about. Serana was the same as Harkon, minus the power hungry, dominating attitude. They were both stubborn and slightly hot headed, and Arela knew she would get a kick out of them yelling at each other. So she found a comfortable wall to lean against, as she hunkered down; listening for the fire fight to start.

"I told you not to go for a reason Serana, now stop being so defiant. You carry so much of your mother's temperament, and see where that got her. She is lost from the world." Harkon hissed.

"You just hated that Mother had a brain! She was able to think for herself, she wasn't dependent on you. She had opinions and you despised that. You've killed everyone on the court that has a free mind and a strong heart. Are you going to kill me too, Father? Because I have a free mind and my own thoughts." Serana's voice was beginning to escalate. "You can't control me like you once were able too. You have no weapons against me left! You use everything I cared about against me, now I have nothing. My nurses, my servants and my few suitors and friends I had when I was a mortal, they are all dead now, by your hand. You have nothing left to threaten me with."

Arela stiffened; the air seemed to drop a few degrees in the castle, as if Serana's comment had stole the happiness from the air. There was a pregnant pause, Harkon started to drive Arela crazy, he need to respond. His silence was making Arela's skin crawl. Finally the suspense was ended, Harkon responded in a cold and malicious tone. "You think I have no influence over you? You're invalid mother isn't here to defend you anymore, Serana. You are wrong, I have one weapon left... and I won't be afraid to use it, if I deem it necessary." Harkon's tone made Arela's blood run cold, and she didn't even exhale her breath.

"Are you hinting about using Arela as a weapon against me?" Serana's voice expressed only shock.

Harkon was quiet for a short time before declaring a statement, Arela would never had expected. "Did I say that? No, plan to keep my secrets hidden, but I will use it as a last resort of I have to... watch what you do, your actions affect more than you now."

"Father, Arela is the most powerful member you have had on this court in millenniums, do you really believe I can't see the politic motivation behind turning her? To kill her would only hurt your power on this deranged court you're running. You have no one else with her skills. If you do anything to her there will be trouble, maybe a revolt, and if you fail to crush that... well that wouldn't be good for you now, would it."

"No one has dared to rebel against me in hundreds of years. Not a single vampire here would try and plot against me now. Especially since Orthjolf and Vingalmo's pets are dead. My position is secure at this time." Harkon haughtily said to Serana.

Serana scoffed. "And if you believe that Father, you are truly naive. You have lost many faithful members, and the unfaithful only leave you alone because of Arela. She has instilled fear in all the members; something you have failed to do." Arela was certain that blow would backfire. Harkon had too much pride, would he take Serana's statement as a threat that Arela was taking action to gain his throne?

"I don't fear her, she is loyal to me... I know she is. I will make sure of it." Harkon sneered, his voice expressed his intolerance for Serana. "You better watch your tongue Serana. May I remind you again; your mother isn't here to protect you. Now, we have nothing to discuss." Harkon said sharply. Arela heard his boots descending down the steps, approaching her.

Arela desperately tried to relax against the wall once more, to look more casual as if she hadn't heard a word of the argument.

Harkon appeared at the bottom of the steps. His face wielded a tight expression, and his gold eyes were flaring.

"What are you waiting for? Get out there and find a Moth Priest!" His voice expressed pure impatience."Go now, and prove that my faith in you was not misplaced." Harkon's words lashed at her.

"I'll be out there soon when Serana's ready to leave." Arela said calmly.

Harkon seemed to relax, but not by much. "I expect you to bring me the Moth Priest, no one else. I demand greatness from you Arela, and I know I will have it." Harkon said harshly, but his eyes sparkling with mischief in them before he departed back toward his room; leaving Arela confused and nervous for her Harkon filled future.

* * *

**[A/N]: Reviews are love, so leave some reviews if you got time! Thank you for reading! :D  
**


	13. Nightmares Mixed with the Past

**[A/N]: Hey guys, this chapter was quite interesting to write; it's just a little insight into Arela's family and past. Plus I wanted a small break before I jump into another few action packed chapters. Also I just wanted to thank you guys for all the reviews! We are well over 100 now, and I never believed that was even possible! So thank you, you lovely readers, reviewers, and lurkers!**

******[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's job. But Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

**_~OneRepublic, Counting Stars _**

**_Lately I been, I been losing sleep  
Dreaming about the things that we could be  
But baby I been, I been prayin' hard  
Said no more counting dollars  
We'll be counting stars  
Yeah, we'll be counting stars_**

* * *

_Everything was dark, and the moon's mellow light was shining down through the small opening at the top of the Cistern. All the beds that lined the wall were undetectable and it was just moonlight and darkness around her; two well known enemies fighting for territory._

_The night seemed peaceful, as the familiar spilling of water from the sewer pipes created a calm lulling sound. The water splashed into the pools below, and reinforced the tranquil atmosphere._

_Standing in the center of the stream of moonlight was Cynric; clad in his thick brown Guild armour. He was cordially extending his hand to Arela; desperately trying to reach her. _

_Arela charged after him, from the secret entrance of the Cistern. She grabbed his hand, pulling it close to her heart. She stopped in front of him, so she could lean her head against his chest; perfectly fitting her head in the crook of his neck. But it was odd, his fingers were cold, too cold to even be human. _

_Arela looked up into Cynric's face, but it wasn't the Cynric she recognized. His blue eyes were gone, and replaced with molten red, and they were screaming for blood. His eyes were full of an insatiable lust for power; there was no doubt he was a vampire. His skin was the color of snow: pale and pure, and all the changes made Arela cringe. _

_This couldn't be right, Cynric was suppose to be human; his expressions were usually neutral or playful, not hungry for power._

_"Cynric?" Arela brushing her other free hand down his face; his skin was icy and it caused Arela to frown. She missed his warm, whiskery, pinkish, lively skin._

_"Isn't this what you wanted Arela? For us to be together?" Cynric's voice was harsh; it was so unnatural._

_"Not like this!" Arela pleaded. "I want us to be a normal, human couple..." _

_"But you know we can't be..." Cynric's voice trailed off, but he was leaning slowly down toward her. His red eyes were closing and Arela was drawn in by: his scent of leather, the calm look that was painted across his face and his pale lips. Arela couldn't help but want to lean in too; to feel his lips on hers. Her dreams cradled moments like these and the reality of this finally crashed upon her. So Arela closed her eyes for a split second, bracing herself for his soft lips to touch hers._

_But it felt like hours had passed in a split moment, and nothing happened. Slowly Arela opened her eyes to be greeted with the sight of an enraged Cynric._

_"No... I won't fall into your trap..." Cynric whispered bitterly._

_Without warning, Cynric lunged for her throat; driving his fangs deep into her unguarded neck. _

_Arela couldn't hold back a blood curdling scream, that burst from her throat. She felt blood gush from her neck, like a fountain had been turned on._

"Cynric!" Arela screamed, flopping onto the floor from her cot, like a fish flinging itself from water.

Her heart was thundering in her chest, like drums. Arela groaned once her back smacked against the stone floor, smashing the breath from her lungs.

Serana had been peacefully resting, but at the sound of the scream she shot up like a bullet. "Are you ok?!"

Arela groaned, "Yeah, I think so. Just a bad dream."

Serana stared at her; analyzing Arela's face before she spoke. "You want to talk about it or this 'Cynric'? It's not everyday someone wakes up screaming people's names. Though I'll admit, I'm not quite sure who this 'Cynric' is."

"No. I don't want to talk about him." Arela replied, without realizing what she had said.

"You sure?" Serana persisted. "It might help you sleep better, if you confide in someone." Arela could tell Serana was trying to be friendly and helpful, but Arela wasn't in the mood.

"Drop it." Arela snapped back. "I just want to go back to sleep, not regale in my nightmares."

Serana frowned. "Fine, suit yourself. I was just trying to be nice."

"I know, I'm just tired. Maybe tomorrow we can talk about it." Arela said, though she had little interest or desire to share it with Serana. In truth the dream had shaken her; the thought of Cynric falling to vampirism was worse than a nightmare.

Arela crawled back in between the blanket and cot, without thinking of her dream once more. But the dream must have lingered in her subconscious, because the rest of her dreams were haunted, and filled with twisted misery for the remainder of that afternoon.

* * *

Arela, grumbled angrily under her breath; her lack of proper sleep was finally catching up with her. Finding this Moth Priest was going to have to be postponed another day. Sadly, Serana's head injury wasn't quite fully healed yet.

Garan had taken another look at it, and insisted they stay in the castle one more day, which peeved Arela to no end. She wanted to be out there, finding this Moth Priest, and putting an end to this ridiculous prophecy Harkon had been ranting about.

Arela had spent some time in the castle armory, practicing shooting with her Nightingale bow, and of course listening to the blathering of Hestla, the blacksmith.

"Oh, Lord Harkon is a powerful man, I saw him rip a man in half before!"

"Oh really..." Arela commented disinterested, aiming at the target. "You people really do believe the moon shines out of his ass, don't you?"

Hestla scowled. "No, we don't! He is powerful, and you would do well to remember that."

Arela chuckled, releasing an arrow that dug straight into the bulls-eye. "Yeah, I'll try. Unlike you, I'm not afraid of him."

"There's a difference between fear and respect." Hestla retorted, but Arela drowned out her constant chatting.

She was only too anxious to finally get out of this castle and back on the battlefield. After listening to another ten minutes of Hestla listing Harkon's extensive l 'great deeds'. Arela packed up and left, only wanting to escape the Harkon infested mania. It was like every member here had a secret shrine of Harkon in their coffin.

Arela was content to stay in the safe confines that Serana's room had to offer. Except for the small side trip she had made to Solitude the night before; stopping only at her house to collect some spare Nightingale armor and to take a quick refreshing bath.

It had been a surprisingly laid back day, and Arela was enjoying the time to catch up with life. And after her trip to Solitude Arela was eager to read the letter Cynric had left for her.

Cynric had left two letters on her kitchen table, and Arela was dying to open them both. With hast Arela ripped the first letter open, and read it.

_Dear Arela,_

_Things at the Guild have been getting heated lately. Rumors of a vampire Dragonborn have been circulating around in the Rift, and I'm afraid for you. And before you write back yelling at me for spilling your secret, it wasn't me who said this. Supposedly the Dawnguard have acquired this information, and the Guild isn't sure how they got wind of this information, but Brynjolf plans to find out. _

_The Guild has been chaotic, Vipir and Thrynn are really beginning to believe the rumors. Arela you need to come here and put this gossip to rest. I'm only telling you this now because the truth needs to be told and soon, before everyone loses respect for you. Do come back._

_Yours Truly, _

_Cynric Endell_

Arela had been so absorbed in reading her letter, she hadn't noticed Serana had gotten up and was currently hovering over her.

"Who's Cynric? Is that the person from your dream?" Serana asked curiously.

"He's nobody..." Arela remarked quietly; Serana was always just a little too nosy for her own good.

"Is he the guy who left your house? You know the cute Breton, with the light scruffy brown beard, blazing blue eyes, wearing brown armour, him right?" Serana asked, pressing farther.

"Wait... How did you know he was at my house?" Arela couldn't help but question how Serana had attained this information.

"I followed you there, he was in there a really long time you know. What were you two doing?" Serana had a surprisingly odd tone in her voice, and if Arela hadn't known better, she might have mistaken her tone as jealousy.

"We were catching up, I hadn't seen him in a long time."

"Ah, so just an old friend?"

"You can say that, I guess." Arela mumbled not wanting to give too much away.

Serana sat there quietly, observing Arela as she quickly started scribbling a letter.

"You are quite secretive aren't you? I feel like I don't know who you are at all. I mean, you've met most of my family, well my father at least, and you know my opinions of them. But I don't anything about yours."

Arela held in a deep frown. "There isn't much to say about my family. Enden is the only true family I ever had. My parents weren't even around. My mother was for a very short time, when we lived in Riften, but I was so young I don't remember much. And to prove how close I was with my father, I can proudly say I don't even know his name." Arela paused to clear her throat, before continuing.

"I was adopted by the Guild when I was about sixteen. I was decent thief before joining, but my mentor in the Guild helped me truly become exceptional. They're like my adoptive family."

"Oh... Well then, what about your mother?" Serana ventured.

"She supposedly raised me and Enden for a short time, before she died. Funny thing though, she actually faked her death to outrun the mass amount of enemies she made in the Rift."

Arela paused turning her body to look Serana directly in the eyes."My mother was in the Thieves Guild. She was a good thief, as well as smart and very manipulative. She climbed ranks in the Guild pretty fast, and landed herself the Guild Second position, under Mercer the Guild Master. But she stepped on people's feet to get her position, and she learned a lot of dark secrets on her climb for power. That's why she had to run away, she had to save her own skin. She never cared about me or Enden."

Arela turned away from Serana, and went back to reading Cynric's letter. But that explanation wasn't enough for Serana's thirsty mind. "Well, what about her now? Is she still alive?"

"She has been living in Windhelm all these years, hiding like a coward. I met her about a year ago... Let's just say she isn't someone I strive to be." Arela snorted.

"Why?" Serana asked; she sounded so childish, but Arela contained her patience.

"There are many reasons... I just prefer not to talk about them." Arela remarked.

Serana was finally beginning to pick up on the not so subtle hints that Arela didn't care to talk about her weak and dysfunctional family.

"Well... What about Enden then? You two seemed close when you freed me from Dimhollow."

"Yeah, we are, mainly because we're fraternal twins. Well... At least I'd like to think we're still close. We joined the Dawnguard together, just because we had drifted apart over the years. I stayed true to being a thief, but Enden branched off more toward the 'honorable' path. He joined the Stormcloak army and became an officer for one of the camps in the Rift. I saw him occasionally, but once we heard about how bad the vampire attacks were we decided to finally step in. Enden had been really shaken by these attacks, he never told me why, but I could sense it was traumatic..." Arela's thoughts drifted a bit, wondering about how Enden was doing.

"So, is that enough about my family?" Arela said hoping that Serana would stop her relentless bombardment of useless questions.

"I guess... I have one last question." Serana smiled. "I'm just curious, what happens if we find Enden with this Moth Priest?"

Arela stiffened at the question. She didn't want to think about it. She had been weighing the options for awhile now. Enden had a blinding hatred of vampires, she wasn't sure how he would react to the news of her being a one; if he didn't already know from the rumors. But she had come up with three of the most likely scenarios.

One, he would remain calm and they could try and talk this out with him. Maybe he would understand how this had happened, that she hadn't chosen to become a vampire just to be ironic or play some sick joke on him.

Two, he would become insanely mad, and attacked her. Forcing Arela to defend herself against him and ultimately let him kill her, because she would never raise a blade against Enden.

Or three... She killed him herself... And she didn't want to do that; not in the least bit. Enden was the only loyal family member she had left, and she wasn't about to give him up too easily.

"I...I don't know." Arela said, her voice was shaky. "I can't really tell until the situation arises."

A weak smile formed on Serana's face. "Don't worry, I don't think Enden would try and kill his own sister. I know I wouldn't, if I had one."

Serana's words were reassuring, but Arela couldn't fully believe it. Not until she could actually see Enden and his reaction.

"Well, get packed up, Serana. We are leaving to find that Moth Priest tomorrow." Arela stated, as she continued her reply to Cynric.

"Ok, I'm ready when you are. I packed my knapsack while you were practicing with your bow." Serana said matter-of-factly.

Arela smiled, she was happy to hear Serana was one step ahead of her. "Good, we start our journey in Solitude tomorrow."

But Arela couldn't shake the feeling that this quest to find the Moth Priest was going to bring a world of new troubles to her already hectic life.

* * *

**[A/N]: Reviews are always welcome, and thank you for reading! :D  
**


	14. Battling a Vampire Covenant

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the late update, but life finally caught up to me. I've been swamped with homework in preparation for final exams, and I've been planning my graduation party. But I'm excited to announce, I'm officially done with high school! :D **

**I finally finished this chapter last night, it's got quite a bit of action, and maybe some other complications you may foresee for Arela, Enden and Serana. But enough talk, I'll let you guys read! **

******[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's job. But I Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Brandon Flowers, Crossfire**_

_**I forget all about the storm outside  
Dark clouds roll their way over town  
Heartache and pain came a-pouring down like hail, sleet and rain, yeah  
They're handing it out  
And we're caught up in the crossfire of Heaven and Hell  
And we're searching for shelter**_

* * *

Their squad had been tracking a certain pack of vampires for days. These particular vampires had been extremely elusive, covering their tracks, and to add to the groups mounting disappointment, they hadn't even spotted a single vampire either. The hunting dogs had even become confused too, unable for hour hours to pick up their scent. But they had found the trail once again.

Isran had forced Enden on this little expedition, telling him to stop moping over his sister's death. He knew Isran felt bad about her death. Many members said she was still alive, wandering as a vampire. But Isran had swore it was a lie; Isran had found Arela's body himself. He assured everyone she was dead, and Enden knew Isran was an honest man, plus what could he even gain by lying anyways?

But still regret sunk into Enden, how could he not feel guilty?

He had lead his own sister to her death, forcing her to wait near enemy territory. This was all his fault, he had been selfish; wanting a companion to be there for him when he returned from Castle Volkihar. Now because of his selfishness, he was paying the price. The blood of his only sister was on his hands... The sister that had always been there for him; the only true family he had ever known. The only person that unconditionally loved and supported him, since the moment their mother had left them. How could he not grieve for her?

Many of the Dawnguard members thought Enden was too emotional, and he had to agree. Only because without emotion how could he live a happy life? He valued connecting with people, often he became easily attached to people; he knew it was a tragic flaw. But it made him feel so alive when he exposed his heart and true character for others to view and judge. He enjoyed being genuine.

Enden dragged his feet along the path; he lacked any energy as of late. The truth about Arela had killed his spirit; he knew his spirit was just slumbering, until he found the passion to seek revenge for what the vampires had done to his sister.

Suddenly their squad stopped, right outside a dark crevice that was cut deep into the mountainside.

Vanik, the squad leader was convinced these vampires were hiding in Forebears' Hideout; an old hidden Fort from the first era; when vampire covenants were more popular.

Enden wasn't sure what to think; he wasn't particularly happy about taking orders from an impulsive and inexperienced boy. Even if Vanik looked the part of a seasoned warrior, as deep scars were sunk into his face; Enden didn't fully trust him.

Vanik was about four years younger than Enden, and in truth Enden was starting to challenge Isran's ability to judge people. Lately Isran had been appointing many young soldiers to leadership positions, when it was obvious they had very little clue what they were doing.

"Ok, let's make our entrance." Vanik commanded; snapping Enden from his thoughts.

Clutching on tightly to his crossbow, Enden shuffled through a narrow opening that lead into an extensive entrance of a large cavern.

Following the path cut into the rock, Enden made his way through onto a balcony overlooking the large cave.

Enden, Vanik, and other members from their squad pushed into the cavern, and they were all in awe from the sight. The place was surprisingly well lite for a damp and musty cave; which instantly made Enden suspicious.

Moss coated the ground like a soft carpet, but the moss was packed down. Which only meant that people must have traveled here, a lot...

Up ahead was a massive crumbling fort, with tall walls that guarded a courtyard. From their position Enden could make out a raging bonfire in the center of the courtyard, where flames were jumping up trying to reach the ceiling.

But no one could drive their attention away from a swirling blue aura, and it was placed on a second tier of the small fort. It resembled a blizzard of blinding light, swaying around a fixed point; acting as a shield for something. Enden couldn't help but wonder what was in there.

"What in Oblivion is going on here?" A man from their squad whispered, and Enden couldn't blame him for asking.

But Enden was already getting the vibe that this place wasn't abandoned. People or vampires were lurking in here; he would bet his life's savings on it.

"Look down in the courtyard." Someone said, and Enden squinted to get a better view.

He was shocked by what he saw, the courtyard was packed with vampires; he would bet there was at least twenty five or more, fully trained vampires. But all the attention was possessed and held on a balcony, positioned in the base of an old tower.

Standing upon the small balcony was an Orc vampire; he was clad in bright white robes; looking so clinical and professional.

By his disposition he looked as if he was preparing for a speech; as he stepped forward raising his arms toward the roof of the cave.

"My fellow vampires, the day has finally come! We are finally powerful enough to challenge the dread Lord Harkon and take his castle. We have the one thing he desires, a Moth Priest and there are enough of us to kill his whole useless court."

It bothered Enden; he swore the name Harkon sounded faintly familiar. For some reason he kept associated the name with Serana, but he couldn't fully understand why.

"No longer are we to be held up in this damnable rotting cave. We can complete the prophecy and claim the glory that is rightfully ours! Harkon's days of ruling the vampires of Skyrim are over!"

Cheers from the vampires roared through the cave; cheers of the hopeful, cheers of the suppressed, and cheers of the power hungry, all lingered in the air.

Enden's stomach tightened, and all his comrades stood in silence; the severity of this was smacking them straight across the face.

"Tomorrow we storm Castle Volkihar, and kill Lord Harkon, and finally we will be free!"

The applause raged through the cave, leaving an eerie echo ringing through the cavern.

But in that moment to hit him, Harkon was Serana's father!

It was funny, he had only met the man once; his arrogant and condescending attitude had made Enden disgusted by him. Enden wasn't surprised at all that Harkon had enemies, a man like him was bound to have an adversary. Personally, Enden had first hated the man because he was a vampire, but after listening to the way he berated Serana, it had taken every ounce of Enden's self restraint to not smack Harkon.

But for some reason Enden could tolerate Serana; she hadn't come off as a vampire to him. Honestly, he was slightly intrigued by her kindness and sweet hospitality, especially since she was a vampire. It only made the mystery about her that more captivating.

"By the divines... What do we do?" Vanik said, worry crawling into his voice. "How can we kill this many vampires, with our meager numbers?"

There was a stream that cut straight through the cave, meandering around outside of the hideout, acting as a moat to protect the small fort from being charged. The river must have given birth to all the vegetation like small bushes, hanging mosses and mountain flowers that were sprouting wildly around the large cave.

"We could slip into the river, that way our scent is covered." Enden remarked. "Then we hide in the trees and bushes at the end of this stream, and make a surprise attack. A surprise attack is the only hope we have of winning this." Enden couldn't resist giving them a sanguine smile.

Vanik stood there gaping, as if Enden had just punched him in the stomach.

"Well... that sounds like a plan." One of the squad members replied.

"I guess it works, though I'm sure I would have thought of it myself, eventually." Vanik finally pulled together, to assert his arrogant statement. "Since this is your great plan Enden, you lead the way."

Just to be safe Enden loaded his crossbow, and pulled down his metal helmet that protected and obscured his face; he was fully bracing himself for any surprises. This place wasn't safe.

Timidly, the small squad was making their way over to the narrow bridge that crossed over the stream.

"Now, everyone get ready to take a swim." Vanik said, trying to sound slightly comical, but the atmosphere was too heavy for anyone to even force a laugh.

Enden made sure his two-handed sword was securely attached to him, before he slowly descended into the water. He hugged the crossbow close to his chest; making sure the strong current didn't sweep it out of his hands.

"The currents strong." Enden warned, before he fully glided down the river; allowing the current to drag him farther away from safety. The water churned viciously, trying to ripe Enden apart, yanking him in every direction.

Enden hugged on tightly to his crossbow, swimming with the current of the powerful stream. The water ripped the breath from his lungs leaving him light headed, wishing he could catch more air.

The river was cold, making his skin burn. Not even his armour could protect him from the bone chilling cold that raged around him.

Suddenly he felt the water shifting, creating the illusion he was floating.

Enden realized he was being launched over a small waterfall. He gasped for air before he landed awkwardly in the water hoping he hadn't made too much noise, as he bobbed to the surface.

He smiled when he realized the river was starting to damper off, slipped through the rocks deeper down into a crevice, leaving Enden laying in a pool of turbulent water.

Using the remaining strength the water hadn't striped from him, he was able to drag himself to a small patch of beach. He was happy his crossbow was still tightly locked in his hand, and if everyone followed him here, there would be enough members for a surprise attack.

Finally everyone swam down the river, and they were crouched behind some of the trees near the beach front.

"Ok, I think we should rush at them. We will purely catch them by surprise then. Plus if each one of us takes out one vampire that's ten vampires down." Vanik whispered to Enden.

"I agree. We should just charge and take them out. Then we should lure them out of the courtyard. To more open ground where we have the advantage."

Vanik smiled. "I'm glad you're here Enden, you are surprisingly smart when it comes to battle tactics."

He rolled his eyes; Vanik acted like Enden had never been in the army before. He had always helped the commanders prepare strategies and plans for an attack.

Everyone in the squad was taking a few seconds to pull out their swords, battle axes and shields. Others were loading their crossbows with steel bolts, and the occasional few were whispering prayers to the divines for protection.

Enden gripped his crossbow; he was prepared to take his first shot.

"Ok, in five." Vanik said, holding up his hand, and slowly he counted down. "Five." Every member tensed.

"Four. Three. Two." The air had seemed to freeze around them. Enden was actually holding in his breath, too afraid to release it.

"One." Vanik whispered, as everyone clambered out from behind the trees; skidding to a halt to take aim at a vampire in the courtyard.

Enden charged out, and shot his crossbow. He watched his bolt flew, landing its mark right in a Dark Elf vampire standing in the middle of the crowd.

The vampires in the courtyard turned their heads seconds too late. Enden watched as at least eight of them crumpled to their knees in agony. But the other vampires instantly conjured spells in response to the assault, and in seconds he saw fire balls, ice spikes and lightning bolts rained down on them.

Enden threw himself on the ground just in time to dodge a fireball that grazed his metal helmet. He pulled himself to his feet, and loaded his cross bow for a second shot.

He had always loved the sound of battle: he listen to the singing of bolts as they flew by, the erupting battle cries, the screams of pain rang through the air and the shrill sound of clashing swords and flying spells. Just the sounds were causing adrenaline to pump through his system.

Enden smiled, before locking onto his second target, an unsuspecting High Elf who was distracted by a fellow Dawnguard member.

Without another thought he pulled the trigger, and watched as the High Elf screamed in pain. The bolt dug into the girl's neck, causing blood to run ramped out of the wound, staining her robes.

She stumbled a bit before collapsing; her hands grasping at empty air before she died.

"Push into the courtyard!" Vanik yelled.

Vanik had been next to Enden; he watched as Vanik pulled out his shield and sword and was rushing into the flurry of spells and bolts. Enden couldn't help but think it was pure insanity. He watched as Vanik, ran in and plunged his sword right through a Breton vampire who was trying to kill one of their new recruits.

"Stop them!" The coven's leader yelled. He backed away from the balcony before he rushed up the broken tower, into the second tier of the fort.

Enden knew he couldn't let that Orc vampire escape. Without thinking, Enden sprinted after him.

Enden was almost to the tower when a young Imperial vampire stepped in front to him, cutting off his entrance to the tower steps.

She was young; her bright red eyes burned with a dark hatred. She was clad in red robes that conflicted with her silvery white hair. She was unarmed, but he knew better than to pity vampires; they had unnatural strength.

"No, I won't allow you to hurt Malkus! He is the key to beating Harkon!" She hissed, with so much hidden passion for this Orc. He must have done a great job of selling himself as a prophet.

Enden's only response was pulling out his two- handed ancient Nordic sword. He wasn't going to waste his time talking with this foolish, love stricken vampire.

The Imperial girl didn't take kindly to his action; she lunged at him in an attempt to grip Enden's neck.

Smiling at how foolish she was, Enden brought his heavy sword right down on her shoulder; watching as it sliced straight into her flesh. Her blood splattered against his gauntlets, painting streaks and speckles on his chainmail.

The girl groaned in pain, before falling to her feet, weak from the damage his speedy strike had inflicted.

He felt guilty for killing her, but he couldn't let this Vampire Lord Malkus escape. For all he knew this guy could have killed Arela. Just that thought pushed him; causing him to accelerate his pace up the tower.

Finally Enden was at the top of the tower, trying to catch some of his ragged breaths.

There Malkus stood; patiently waiting. He must have known Enden had followed him. He was pacing in front of the giant blue swirling force field.

"Do you know what you have done!" Malkus screamed at Enden. "Years of preparation to defeat Harkon have been destroyed in seconds because of you and your pathetic Dawnguard! I was so close to being able to defeat Harkon, and I would have been the first to win the castle from him since he became the leader thousands of years ago..."

Enden scoffed. "I doubt you could have killed him. When I met him he looked pretty tough, someone I wouldn't want to fight. But there was no way you could beat him, especially if we destroyed your whole clan in minutes."

Malkus hissed at Enden; baring his fangs. "You met Harkon...?" There was pause for a second, as if he was putting a puzzle back together. "So you're the one that brought Lady Serana back! Well, let me tell you, your sister has been doing a great job working for Harkon."

"What in Oblivion are you talking about!" Enden shouted, rage building inside him; he clenched his fists, trying desperately not to get sucked into a rash action. "My sister died! So don't you dare taint her name with all your lies!"

"Oh, I'm telling you the whole truth. It is rumored that your sister, the Dovahkiin right? Well her and Harkon have some form of a relationship going on, well it's rumors around the castle, but rumors are almost always true at Castle Volkihar. And she has been running around with Lady Serana, you know causing trouble and killing more vampires and Dawnguard members for all I know."

"Shut up!" Enden couldn't listen to one more lie this vampire spat at him. "Arela died near Castle Volkihar and I know she is dead, you can't lie to me. Plus my sister would never like a man as evil as Harkon!" Enden was shaking angrily, he hadn't even realized how blurred his vision had become from fighting back tears of fury.

"You are all arrogant, you humans. Your sister is a vampire, no matter how hard you deny it." Malkus said summoning an icy spell into his hand.

"No, we aren't arrogant. We just know you vampires lie!" Enden hissed, as he rolled to the left just in time to dodge an ice spike. He landed awkwardly on his shoulder; moaning in pain as he heard a popping sound.

But Enden scrambled to his feet, just in time to avoid another shard of ice. His shoulder was burning, and he was sure it was dislocated. There was no way he pick up a sword, let alone swing it at this point.

Enden wasn't sure what he could do other than run at this point. Cradling his arm, he decide to make a mad dash for the tower stairs, hoping he cpuld get away and Malkus wouldn't follow him.

But to his dismay, Malkus struck him in the back with a lightening bolt. Enden felt the volts course through his body: his heart faulted in his chest, his breath was trapped in his throat, his muscles crapped, screaming for him to stop running. His feet failed to support his heavy body, and soon Enden found himself face down on the bricks.

Scraping his hands on the tile floor; Enden tried desperately to drag himself to the stairs, hoping he could escape Malkus. But it was futile, Malkus was already stalking over to him, letting out a mocking chuckle that expressed his victory.

"You mortals are funny, to think you stand a chance against us vampires." Malkus stamped his foot on Enden's back, causing his body to be flattened against the floor.

Enden heard Malkus pull out his iron battleaxe. "I promise I'll make this quick for you." Malkus cackled wickedly, as he raised his ax, preparing to bring it down on Enden's head.

Enden closed his eyes tightly; praying to the divines to forgive him: for causing Arela to die, for letting her down and not being able to support her, and for failing as a brother and a friend.

He wished that Arela could have been here, she would have turned this whole battle around. But at least he will be reunited with her in Sovengard, shortly.

In a split second Enden heard a sharp snap, he figured this must be the sound of death. Waiting for waves of pain to carry him to Sovengard.

Patiently he laid on the ground, but nothing happened. Enden slowly opened his eyes and looked up.

He was greeted with the sight of a steel bolt jutting out of Malkus's chest, as blood stained and thoroughly soaked his white robes. Malkus crashed to the ground, without uttering a word.

"I just saved your life Enden, so at least have the decency to get up off the ground." Vanik put away his crossbow, as he reached out his hand to Enden; a smug look was painted on his face.

"Uhh... Thanks for that." Enden took his hand with his one fully functional arm, and got to his feet.

"Well, all of the vampires are dead, and four of our members survived, so this trip wasn't completely a failure. Hey, is your arm ok?"

Enden shook his head, clutching his arm tightly. "I think I dislocated my shoulder."

Vanik grabbed Enden's shoulder, and quickly shoved his arm right back into his socket. Enden yelped at the sudden brutal force. "Hey! What was that for!"

"Well, I fixed it, didn't I? So, stop your whining."

Enden moved his shoulder cautiously at first, but soon he realized Vanik had fixed it. "Fine, I'll stop complaining." Enden gave him a friendly smile.

"Ok, we are only staying a few more hours to regroup, clean up the carnage, fix up some injuries, and see if we can get this damn Moth Priest out of here."

Vanik looked over at the Moth Priest that was trapped in the ray of circulating blue lights. "Sadly I don't know how to get that ward down, so unfortunately the Priest is stuck in there." Vanik frowned, before he made his way back down the tower to the courtyard.

Enden slowly walked over to the edge of the tier that overlooked the courtyard, and he felt his heart being wrenched from his chest; the sight was almost too much to bear. He bit down on his lip just to cope with the tears that were starting to weld up in his eyes.

Vanik was already dumping the vampires bodies into the huge fire in the courtyard. Enden had always thought it was inhumane, even if they were vampires, but he didn't want to question Vanik's authority.

He watched the remaining Dawnguard members mourning their lost comrades. A young recruit was actually crying over her friend's dead body. All the other members stood there looking down upon the young girl. They mimicked the same stoniness that statues possessed; their chiseled looks unreadable. If they were even sad at his death, they never showed a sign of it. They were purely emotionless, just the reality stung Enden's heart.

Like Enden, these members knew there was going to be more death down the dangerous path they had chosen. But their lack of compassion scared him, how could they just purely disregard their comrades' death?

Enden sighed. Was there ever going to be an end to this? Was their fighting useless? Was it even possible to eradicate all the vampires in Skyrim or were they just risking their lives for a hopeless dream?

And every time he tried to answer one of those questions, the possibility and solutions seemed even farther away.

* * *

**[A/N]: Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you guys think about this chapter!  
**

**Also on a lovely side note, me and Timeywimeyspaceywacy are teaming up and doing a cooperative fiction about, a surprisingly neglected character named Valerica. We haven't fully picked out a title for this fic yet, but we plan to have the first chapter posted in about two or three weeks.  
**

**Here is the summary, if you are interested just make a quick note in your review. Also feel free to PM me or Timey about the fic if you're curious! **

******A once loving mother, a disdainful wife, and a cowardly, hide away vampire are all titles Valerica has encompassed over the years. But she wasn't always known that way; this is the story of a woman who gave up everything she had, to protect the one thing that mattered most – her daughter, Serana.**


	15. Hunt for the Moth Priest

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I just wanted to give you all a huge thanks for the support! And I also wanted to thank my new beta reader, ShoutFinder, for helping me out with this chapter. If you guys have time, check out some of her work; she is an astonishing writer!  
**

**Anyways, I'll let you guys read!**

******[DISCLAIMER]: I don't have rights to the Elder Scroll Series that is the expertise of Bethesda, but Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Shinedown, I'm Alive**_

_**I'm alive I'm alive  
Well you're dead inside  
I'm a slap in the face  
To your lullaby  
Got you all tongue tied  
'Cause you're living a lie, my friend**_

* * *

Arela and Serana slipped into the large cave that was known as Forebear's Hideout.

Their idea to start the search for the Moth Priest in Solitude had paid off the moment a carriage driver had mentioned seeing a Moth Priest moving towards Dragon's Bridge.

The guards in Dragon's Bridge had pointed them west, over the ancient and Nordic-styled bridge. Arela despised the giant looming gargoyle of a dragon head; the black carved scales and sharp piercing horns reminded Arela too much of Alduin.

The head itself gave Arela traumatizing flashbacks of her fight in Sovngarde; the very fight that had nearly cost Arela her life. Fighting Alduin had proven to be one of the greatest challenges of her life, and she didn't want to repeat that.

Serana's angry banter had become entertaining; Arela would have never guessed finding a Moth Priest could cause such a surge of emotions. Arela couldn't help but laugh at Serana's unusual impatience; normally she never complained about going on quests.

It hadn't been long before they had reached a smashed carriage, and clues of an attack had been painfully obvious. Vampire and Imperial guards' bodies had been left all around the cart. A vicious battle must have transpired here, and the details were illustrated as blood stains on the grass.

But Lady Luck hadn't abandoned them, for Serana discovered an ordinance from a vampire named Malkus. This Malkus had instructed his vampire minions to capture the Moth Priest and bring him to Forebear's Hideout. Arela was sure they were going to run into trouble at Forebear's Hideout; it was destined to happen.

"Malkus... That name seems vaguely familiar." Arela muttered to Serana.

"That's because he is a vampire on my father's court," Serana remarked. "It seems he had some of his own followers... I told you he was up to no good. Anyone that sneaks around Castle Volkihar is hiding a secret." She clenched her fists.

Arela was able to pick up the scent of humans and she could make out the stale scent of vampires. It was no ordinary vampire she was detecting; it was the aroma of a Volkihar Vampire, mixed with the stench of weak blooded vampires. Arela frowned; she was certain now that Malkus was here.

Arela couldn't neutralize her light anxiety. What might happen if she was not be the first to find this Moth Priest? What would Harkon think of her? Would he be disappointed, would he presume she was weak, or would he go as far as even punishing her? Arela didn't want to be presented with an answer; failure wasn't an option.

"Someone else has been here. Vampires, and I'm pretty sure the Dawnguard are in here," Serana whispered, trying to disguise the nervousness in her hushed voice.

"Don't worry, they aren't well organized. Isran, their leader, wasn't a man made to formulate armies; he wasn't even slightly organized. He just sloppily threw the Dawnguard together," Arela replied. "Plus, maybe the two groups killed each other, so there might be just a few stragglers left to deal with."

"I hope you're right. I don't want to fight more than I have to." Arela watched Serana run her hand over her freshly healed wound. The mark on her head had disappeared, but Arela suspected Serana's sense of security was more shaken than anything.

"Don't worry, Serana." Arela have her a bright smile.

Arela watched her footing as she approached a small balcony overlooking a sturdy fort that was buried in the center of the cave.

The cave was quiet, minus the roaring of a minuscule river that was winding around the construct The stream was only an advantage to an archer. It meant enemies had to run over the narrow bridge to get her, making it perfect to kill any attackers.

Arela's attention was called to the second tier into the cave, where a massive dark swirling cyclone ruled her line of sight.

"You think the Moth Priest is in the ward?" Serana persisted.

"Probably. What other reason would there be a giant orb like that?" Arela said quietly. "Have you seen anyone so far?"

"There are four guards on the fort wall." Serana's tone seemed eager to tackle the next challenge.

Arela smiled, pulling out her bow. "I can take care of them. Don't worry Serana."

* * *

Arela rolled into the shadows, driving deep into the dark silence that was hugging around the three Dawnguard members. Serana quietly followed. Arela was pleased; they had both gone unnoticed, since Arela and Serana had stealthily taken care of the four Dawnguard members without a sound.

They settled into some rubble at the edge of the ruined tower. From here Arela could easily make a perfect shot, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Three people were standing, observing the large blue vortex, that was protecting a man. This man was cast in simple, white, scholarly robes. He had a scraggly white beard, a bald head, and an aged face.

Arela knew it was the Moth Priest, there wasn't a doubt in her mind, and Serana nodded in reassurance.

"So that's the scholar?" A young commander with deep scars that dragged down his face asked a short stocky girl.

"It's a Moth Priest. You know, the priests that read the Elder Scrolls," The girl replied casually.

"Well, that's obvious. But what would vampires want with a Moth Priest?"

"I haven't a clue, but they were obviously trying to protect him from something, or someone." The girl said turning to the man at her right. He had remained silent for the most part, not even taking an interest in their obvious observations

"Hey, Enden what do you think?" And in that moment Arela felt her heart stop, and her blood ran cold.

Enden was here! Her heart sped up pounding in her chest, threatening to burst out of her body with excitement. She missed Enden so much: his smile, his laughter, his calm blue eyes, and his deep sense of kinship, were all things that as had felt divided from.

She never thought for one second she would have missed Enden so much, they had lived far part before, but never like this; where her brother's fate was uncertain. It was tantalizing watching Enden stand there looking so sullen, with slightly slouched shoulders, and she could tell by the way he was leaning on his sword he was exhausted.

It was taking a vast amount of tantalizing for Arela to stay in her spot; she was so tempted to run out and greet her brother. But at this point it was impossible. If she made one move both her and Serana were dead.

"Well, the vampires have an Elder Scroll. Well, at least that Vampire Lord – Harkon – does."

"That's right, thanks to you, Enden." The commander said snidely.

Arela watched Enden take off his helmet, and quickly ran his hair through his brown hair; it was a nervous tick Enden had picked up, courtesy of Brynjolf.

"Why don't you shut up, Vanik. How was I suppose to know her father was the leader of a whole castle full of vampires, and how was I suppose to know he was particularly interested in the Elder Scroll, instead of his daughter's safe return?"

Arela watched Enden become increasingly flustered, by this man Vanik's questions.

"Well, you should have killed her, and taken the Scroll to Isran, not acted on your own free will," Vanik snapped.

She watched as Enden tightened his grip on the sword he was leaning on. "And what would that have done?! We wouldn't never learned who are true enemy was."

"Your smart move cost Arela her life, and you were a coward to escape unscathed," Vanik hissed.

Normally, Arela could control her temper, but in that moment she lost it. How could this man call her brother a coward, right to his face? Arela had never blamed Enden for any of this; it wasn't his fault this twisted fate had fallen upon her shoulders. Vanik had no right to be invective toward Enden, especially when this was more Arela's fault, she had been careless, and had curiously strayed to close to enemy territory.

No, Arela wasn't going to let Vanik talk to Enden that way; she was going to take justice into her own hands this time.

In a split second Arela had pulled out her bow, and she took an arrow from her quiver. The impulse to kill Vanik took over, and before Enden could reply to Vanik's comment an arrow was screaming through the air.

The arrow hit Vanik squarely in the middle of his spine, and a sickening crunch resonated through the cave. But the sound of Vanik's howling drowned out everything else.

"My back! My back, help me! I can't even feel my legs!" Vanik moaned. Arela pulled a second arrow back, and shot just to silence him.

Arela hadn't missed the nuance of shock that surfaced on Serana's face. Serana wasn't use to the impetuous display from Arela, but Arela knew Serana would still defend her.

Serana was already one step ahead of Arela, as she readied a paralysis spell. She struck Enden with, just in time to keep him from pulling out his crossbow.

"I know you're there, so come out!" The girl yelled; her voice wielding high levels of trepidation.

Arela watched as the sole mobile Dawnguard member tried to keep a steady grip on her war hammer; she briskly walked around searching for them.

Arela pulled back her bowstring, readying for another shot.

The arrow found its mark in the girl's heart, as it tore through her weak Dawnguard chainmail.

"No! Let me go!" Enden was laying on the ground, frozen, with eyes closed, wailing like a banshee. "You killed my friends! I hate you! I hate vampires!"

Arela started laughing, as she slowly made her way over to Enden's rigid body laying on the ground.

"Oh really? You hate your only sister?" Arela chuckled, keeping her tone light.

"My sister is dead! How dare you!" Enden shrieked. The paralysis spell was already wearing off, for Enden was beginning to stiffly move his limbs.

"You don't even recognize my voice, Enden?" Arela asked, desperately trying to get through to him.

Enden stop for a second; laying there still, and he gradually opened his eyes to focus on her.

"Enden it's me... Your sister, Arela. See, I'm wearing my Nightingale armour, sorry you can't see me from under my hood."

"A-Arela...?"

"Yes, it's me silly." She could feel her eyes becoming cloudy from the rising emotion. Arela tenderly leaned down and help Enden to his feet.

"Is this really you?" Enden said giving her one more skeptical look.

"Yes! If I was a vampire do you really think you would be alive at this point?"

Enden smiled, at her snarky comment, and without warning he quickly pulled Arela into a tight hug. She could feel Enden's wet tears soaring into her armour. Arela reciprocated, his action by hugging him like her life depended on it.

"Arela they told me you died... Isran said they had found your body... That the vampires got hold of you..." Enden gasped raggedly, trying to breathe between sobs. "I felt so guilty, it was all my fault... I thought I got you killed!" Enden cried, but it sounded slurred through his tears.

"Oh, stopping being such a baby," Arela joked, hugging him tighter. "I'm still alive." Arela knew she was crying, she could feel the tears gradually sliding down her cheeks, though she tried to fight them away. Just Enden's emotional and sentimental personally was getting to her.

How could Isran tell Enden such a thing, give him such false beliefs to hold on to? Isran had never had any proof to make such an accusation. Isran would pay for this...

"Hey, don't worry. This wasn't your fault. We won't be separated again, ok?" Arela whispered, trying to disguise her broken voice.

Enden pushed Arela an arm's length away; his eyes were so glassy and bloodshot. She watched as he wiped the tears from his eyes, giving her a weak smile.

"Arela, I shouldn't have made you sit outside that damn castle. This was all my fault."

In that moment it dawned on Arela; Enden didn't know she was a vampire. He still thought she was human; and he definitely didn't know Serana was here, probably watching their reunion. She knew this was going to get awkward... Enden was going to take the news worse than Cynric did. She was so uncertain how he would react; Enden had always seemed so bi-polar, she could never predict his reactions or his moods.

Serana slid out of the shadows, carefully making her way over to Arela. Serana was eloquently taking each step with a slowness; she was obviously to not make any sudden movements that might call Enden to attack.

"Serana." Arela turned to her; forming her voice into a friendly tone.

Serana shot Arela a sweet smile. "I hate to break up this touching family reunion, but don't we have a job to do, Arela?"

Enden tensed. "Serana... It's been a while... What are you doing here?"

Serana realized the delicacy of the situation, and so she gave Enden a bright smile before responding. "Your sister and I have been traveling together for a while. We are here for the Moth Priest."

"Is this true, you've been traveling with a vampire?" Enden asked, a certain sternness was present. It was unusual for him to be assertive about anything, but vampire must be the exception.

"Yeah... We have been traveling together. Is there a problem?" Arela said sharply.

"No. It's just I've heard a lot of rumors about you being a vampire. I know they're not true, but do you really need to be around vampires?"

Arela forced herself not to flinch, the harsh tone was so unnatural to her, particularly coming from Enden. "Well there is something important I have to tell you." Arela tried to relax, but she couldn't. The uneasiness of tell him the truth was causing her stomach to tighten.

"What is it?" Enden said quizzically, his brown eyebrows knitted together. She could already sense he was preparing for some massive reveal. Shakily she took a deep breath.

"Enden...the rumors are true. I am a vampire."

* * *

**[A/N]: Hehe, sorry about the cliffhanger... Enden's reaction is entirely for next chapter! But reviews are love, so leave some reviews; they truly make my day! :D  
**

**And on another note, Timey and I have just started our Valerica fic, so our first chapter for that will be coming very soon; keep a look out for the title, _Rising Like Dust_! If you haven't read anything by Timeywimeyspaceywacey, I absolutely suggest you read some of her work. _Ascension_ and _An Uncommon Reaction_ are brilliant stories so check them out! **


	16. Plans for a Certain Vampire Lord

**[A/N]: Hey guys! First, all I have to say is, wow. Last chapter I got the most reviews for a single chapter yet, I was overjoyed! So thank you all! :D**

**This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but it's a lot of content.  
**

**Also a small shout out, I would like to thank ShoutFinder for taking on the role as my beta. She is honestly an amazing author, so please check out her new story _Torn_.**

**Well, enough talk! I will let you read.**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't have rights to the Elder Scroll Series that is the expertise of Bethesda, but Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Swedish House Mafia, Save the World**_

_**It's far from home,  
It's for the better  
What we dream, it's all that matters  
We're on our way, united**_

* * *

This was one delicate situation, and Serana had no desire to be involved in this family reunion. It was touching to watch a lost brother and sister come together, but Arela's confession had washed the happy expression right off Enden's face. Serana took a step in front of Arela; if she had to, she was willing to take the brunt of this for Arela.

Enden stared at them. His jaw looked as if it was about to hit the ground. He was stunned, to put it lightly.

"What?" he said weakly. "You're joking, right, Arela?"

Serana let a wry smile form on her face. If he thought this was a joke, he was in for a real surprise.

"No, I'm being honest," Arela stated, her tone hurt. She was desperately trying to keep her voice strong; she knew Enden, and she knew that he was _not_ going to take this well when he got over the shock.

She slowly breathed out in resignation and silently took off her Nightingale hood, revealing her burning crimson eyes, snowy pale skin, and her blood red lips. Arela looked distinctly different from pure blooded vampires; she had light blue veins on her neck, so very obvious beneath her translucent, pale skin. Very different, very distinct.

Serana watched Arela's hair slowly falling into place around her face. She had always been jealous of Arela's auburn hair; it was gorgeous compared to her own that was black as raven feathers, and Arela's red eyes only intensified her russet curls.

It wasn't long before Enden had snapped out of his shocked trance; rage was swiftly taking over.

"Arela... what were you thinking!" Enden's temper lashed out like a whip. "You went to the castle and took Harkon's offer, didn't you?! Don't lie to me. He offered me the same thing, but I turned him down. I can't _believe_ you, Arela!"

"I didn't choose to become a vampire, I was forced to!" Arela cried, and Serana couldn't miss that sorrowful note. "It was this or death... Harkon was going to kill me if I didn't become a vampire!"

Enden was trembling with rage. "Then you should have chosen death over becoming the _un_dead!"

"Hey, let's keep this civil," Serana snapped at Enden.

"Civil?! You call turning into a monster 'civil'!" Enden didn't bother to lower his voice. "I bet _you_ were the one that convinced her to become a monster!"

Serana flinched, but she refused to back down; Enden's words cut her deeply, but she wasn't going to let it show. How could he even _think_ that she had wanted to turn Arela? Serana wished this fate upon no one; vampirism had destroyed her family.

Serana had been forced down this path simply because of her father; his affiliation with Molag Bal had brought this blight upon her family. Not even Mother had been able to protect Serana's soul from the hungry Daedric Prince.

"Enden! You won't talk to Serana that way!" Arela shouted, the Thu'um starting to sneak into her words in her distress. "This wasn't her fault! She tried to save me from this!"

Enden hissed. "She's a vampire! How could she _not_ want you to join her ranks?"

"You know nothing of Serana's feelings. Vampirism destroyed her family!" Arela roared; her voice sounded slightly shrill in Serana's ears. Knowing things were starting to grow serious, she held Arela back, who was starting to advance in her rage towards her brother. However, she could not ignore her feelings of awe and slight disbelief at Arela's comment. Was Arela actually defending her? It was odd to think Arela was actually turning on Enden – her only _brother_– to defend her, a vampire.

"And vampirism is destroying mine!" Enden retorted. He stared at his sister in frank disbelief. "I can't believe you're defending _her, _Arela... I'm your only brother!" he stated vehemently; Serana could tell he was suppressing angry tears.

Arela hadn't been exaggerating when she had told her that Enden was highly emotional.

"Maybe because Serana is the only one acting rash here. I wanted you to take this news peacefully, but evidently that plan was bound to fail from the start." Arela scoffed.

"In my defense, everyone told me you were dead – except your vampire buddy, Malkus. And then, I find out you're alive, and what's more, _undead_! That's a lot to take in, just in one day." Enden ran a hand through his long brown hair. Serana guessed it was his way to cope with stress. After a moment, he demanded, "Malkus said you were working for Harkon. Is that true?"

Arela was speechless; her chin was on her collarbone, but words did not escape it. She was too fearful to speak the truth – Enden was upset, and normally she wouldn't have been worried, merely concerned, but this time, he had a loaded crossbow.

Serana watched Arela struggle with the reality of her actions; she had killed in Father's name, and Arela couldn't deny helping him.

Arela had helped Father, even though she didn't have much of a choice. Truth. But she couldn't tell Enden that she _wasn't_ helping Father, much as she looked as though she wanted to.

So Serana improvised. "Well, we are here collecting the Moth Priest to discover more about the prophecy. We hope to use the prophecy to..." She paused. "Well, to defeat my father."

"Yeah..." Arela was still in shock from the question, and her face plainly showed it. But even her hesitant response satisfied Enden.

"Arela and I figured we could use the information in my Elder Scroll to complete the prophecy on our own terms. We can't let my father get wind of this though," Serana explained, warningly; though she and Arela hasn't talked about this, she was sure Arela would agree with her.

"So, you two are living with the vampires, but working against them?" Enden checked, sounding slightly bemused.

"You could say that..." Arela mumbled. "But Harkon seems to be on my tail, a lot. So we haven't really done much. His court are his eyes and ears and we've had to be careful." Remembering her fight with a certain vampire in the court, she could only imagine facing the entirety of it.

"Is Harkon bothering you, Arela?" Suspicion was crawling it's way into his words. "But if you've taken his blood...why at all?"

"Because I'm the Dragonborn," Arela sighed. "And there is only one _Dovahkiin_, so I'm a _rare _trinket to him. " Her tone was clipped and slightly irritated. "I didn't ask for this attention. As a prophecized savior, it's prone to follow me around. I'm surprised all of Skyrim doesn't know who I am."

Serana could tell Enden was preparing to ask another question. He looked tense; he was biting down on his lower lip and she could tell he was contemplating how to phrase it. Reluctantly he finally managed to venture, "Malkus said you had a relationship with Harkon, Arela. Is that true? I thought he was lying, and it must be false if you're planning on killing him, right?"

Serana glanced uncertainly at Arela just in time to see her blush, violently. It was odd to see Arela blush; she hardly ever got flustered by anything, other than the occasional compliment or if they ever spoke of that Breton thief, Cynric.

"Of course they're false. I don't like Harkon. Nothing to worry about there..." Serana watched Arela disguise her reddened cheeks behind her hands. It was painfully obvious that something about Father was bothering her.

Enden didn't look convinced by Arela's answer either, but he turned to Serana nonetheless. "So, you're going to kill your father?" he asked.

It sounded awful – and it was, because he was still _her_ father, and Mother once had loved him – but Serana pushed the thought of it away. "Well, he's changed... I'm trying not to think of him as my father anymore. He's gone down a path I can't follow, a path of insanity and obsession with power. If he completes this prophecy, then he will destroy so many innocent lives." Serana was resolute now the ball was rolling. "He may be kin, but... I realize now, he must be stopped."

"And how do you plan on defeating him?" Enden demanded. "The man can rip people in half. He's a Vampire Lord! Plus we have no idea what gift he inherited. We would be walking straight into a death trap!"

Arela narrowed her eyes darkly. "Harkon isn't going to die easily..."

"You've been listening to too many of Hestla's stories again," Serana scolded her. "I know my father is dangerous, but once we know more about the prophecy, there might be something we can use against him."

"I still think we need to think this through, Serana," Arela muttered. "Remember Harkon isn't just some weak blooded vampire. He has Molag Bal's favor."

Serana sighed. "I have his favor, too...in a way. I'm a pure blooded vampire, same as my father, only I don't exactly _relish_ it as he does."

"That's a good advantage, I guess, and plus, we've got the _Dovahkiin_ on your side." Arela smiled. It was reassuring to everyone.

Enden's brow furrowed. "Sounds like you guys need all the help you can get. Well... If you two are going to kill Harkon, you can count me in. I'll enjoy killing a Vampire Lord."

Serana frowned. This wasn't about killing vampires, and Enden didn't realize that. This was about stopping her father – a man that wished to destroy the sun.

"This isn't about my father. This about protecting Nirn, Enden. My father may be a vampire, but that isn't why we're killing him." Serana could feel her temper slipping away. For a sensitive guy, Enden sometimes forgot to give sensitivity in return.

Enden sighed impatiently. "I know, you two have your own reasons for wanting to kill Harkon. You – Serana – want to kill Harkon because has become obsessed with an unjust path. Arela wants to kill him because he views her as an object, and I simply want him dead because he is a manipulative vampire. So let me have my reason."

Serana clenched her fists. She was really trying hard not to drive one of them straight into Enden's skull. Very carefully, she said, "Your statement is quite blunt. I have many reasons for wanting my father stopped, and I know they're justified. You make us sound selfish, and planning to kill your kin to do the right thing is quite on the contrary to being selfish."

Arela groaned. "Are you two done fighting? We have more important things to worry about. So, are we finally all in agreement about Harkon?"

Serana frowned; she hated to think about this. Father might have twisted ideas of fate for vampires, but did he really need to die for this? He was kin, and kin were supposed to stick together; just watching Arela and Enden's reunion had been hard. Especially since Serana's family was so distant. Kin were supposed to always support each other in the end, but here she was, planning to kill her own father.

But when had Father really considered Serana a real daughter, rather than a means to an end? He had never really loved her, she reasoned grimly. She was just a liability at this point, nothing more than a necessity to his goal of completing this insane prophecy.

No matter how long she debated this issue, it always came back to one distinct answer.

Serana exhaled the long breath she had been holding in. "Yes, my father needs to be die," she said. "There is no alternate way around it."

* * *

**[A/N]: And there you have it! The ultimate decision has been made for Harkon. I hope it wasn't too early to make Serana decide upon her father's fate, but I felt it was already coming at this point, even when I was playing the DLC.**

**On a small note, the Valerica fiction has been posted, so please check it out! It is called, _Rising Like Dust_. I have already gotten some good feedback on it, and so far people are thoroughly entertained!**

**Also, I would love to hear some feedback on this chapter; what did you guys think of Enden's reaction? Or Serana's ultimatum? :)**


	17. This is Freedom?

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I got this chapter out earlier than I intended, and I was very pleased with how it turned out. Again, thank you ShoutFinder! :)**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's job. But Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Imagine Dragons, Bleeding Out**_

_**I'm bleeding out  
So if the last thing that I do  
Is bring you down, I'll bleed out for you  
So I bare my skin  
And I count my sins, and I close my eyes  
And I take it in  
I'm bleeding out  
I'm bleeding out for you, for you.**_

* * *

Arela observed the giant swirling vortex the Moth Priest was standing in. "Do you two have any idea of how to get him out of here?" she chimed in.

"No...at least, I don't know. Vanik thought it had something to do with this waystone." Enden pulled out a sphere from his knapsack.

The sphere had iridescent blue, jagged lines streaking through it. The color matched that of the force field, and Arela would have bet her life's savings that the sphere was the key they needed to free the Moth Preist.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Serana asked impatiently. "We could have already gotten him out."

"Because I forgot I had it," Enden growled. "If you remember, you two came storming in here and killed Vanik, and then I meet my sister again after I hear that she's dead, only to find she's undead, and that doesn't exactly help my memory."

Arela let out a disheartened sigh. Serana and Enden had been at each other's throats for the last twenty minutes. There was no way they could be united if they kept trying to verbally kill each other. _Leave that to me and the dragons._ "Let's just relax," she said tiredly. "No need to get all hostile over a stone."

"I agree with Arela," said Enden. "Let's just free this Moth Priest." He shot Serana a dirty look.

"Wow! I never thought you would want to get down to business. Simply because you're the one that sent us on a twenty minute search for a stone you had all along." Serana's crass comment caught Arela off guard.

"Stop this, now!" Arela could feel anger raging inside her. Enden and Serana's childish behavior was unbearable, and at this rate the Moth Priest would die of old age before they freed him. "You two are acting worse than children! How are we ever going to do anything with your useless bickering?"

"She started it." Enden _had_ to put in a snide and worthless remark.

Arela frowned at Enden's juvenile needle. "Does it matter? You both are acting like Draugr-brained idiots - especially you, Enden. At least Serana has the brains to stop talking when told to be quiet."

Enden bit his lip; he was probably holding back a spiteful comment.

"Enden," Arela said more gently, "why don't you go find out what we need to do with that stone. Try the pedestal at the top of the overlook." Hopefully, she told herself, keeping him busy would stop any trouble.

Taking slow and winded steps, Enden ascended the stairs that lead to the pedestal.

"Tell me when you're ready for me to release the Moth Priest!" he called down at the top.

Ice danced around Serana's palm, and in Serana's other hand she had her trusty elven dagger. She anticipated an attack from the Moth Priest, as did Arela.

Arela pulled her Nightingale bow from her shoulders and quickly readied a steel arrow from her quiver. "All right. We're ready, Enden."

As Enden inserted the blue sphere onto the pedestal, there was a loud roar.

The ground began to quake. Dust and rubble fell from the ceiling, clouding Arela's sight of the Moth Priest. The tremors had caused her to almost lose her balance. Her bow slipped from her hand as she grabbed Serana's shoulder to hold herself up. She responded by grabbing onto Arela's arm.

The swirling blue force field began to dissipate, as the six obelisks surrounding the man retracted and sunk into the floor.

Arela could hardly take her eyes off the sight; however, sensing danger, she reached down and grasped her bow. Knowing she could defend herself kept her from feeling afraid. But Serana was shaking slightly. The anticipation must be killing her.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Moth Priest stood before them, looking simple and bland in his bright white robes. The shield he had once been trapped in was no more, leaving him unprotected.

"Who are you?" the aged man asked, as he rubbed his eyes. He looked dazed and confused, as if waking from an intense amount of sleep. Then he lowered his hands, and he immediately took in Arela and Serana, their pale skin and bright eyes, and he suddenly looked afraid. "Are you...wait, are you vampires?"

"Yes, but setting aside that fact, we need your help," Serana responded curtly. Her tone carried a hint of helplessness in it.

Serana's comment seemed to jump-start the man. His eyes flew wide in shock, and he took a few steps back to distance himself from them. His face contorted into an expression of repugnance and rage. "Your kind is a blight to Tamriel, monsters!"

"Calm yourself, please!" Arela cried. "We're not going to hurt you, we swear!"

Regardles, the Priest summoned flames to his palms and swiftly unsheathed his blade from its sheath.

"There's no talking him out of it," Serana surmised grimly.

"Don't kill him!" Arela told her. "Try and subdue him."

Serana responded instantly, showering the Priest in a torrent of ice crystals. She was trying to wear his stamina and slow him down, but to no avail. He merely shielded his eyes from the blast of ice, waved away the cold with his fistful of fire, and charged with sword held aloft.

Arela pulled her bowstring back, waiting for a clear shot, but there were no safe openings. She couldn't get a decent angle. The chance of hitting Serana was too high.

The scholar kept moving toward Serana. To keep her distance, she started to take a few steps back, readying another spell. However, there was a hazard and Arela and Enden both saw it at the same time.

"Watch out!" Enden yelled, rushing down the steps. But it was too late; Serana tripped over Vanik's dead body.

She landed awkwardly on her back, her spells flickering and dying and the breath knocked out of her. The Priest was within striking range now, and Serana looked up at him as he loomed above her. Her pale face drained of blood and her eyes widened.

The Moth Priest raised his sword, preparing to finish her off.

Arela tossed down her bow with a clatter and raced forward; she had to save Serana, even if she died in the process.

Sprinting forward, Arela got a good footing on one of the obelisks, and used her momentum to launch herself into the air. She landed squarely on the Moth Priest's back, knocking him flat on his face onto the stone tiled floor and sending his sword flying. Arela grabbed both the Priest's hands and held them against his back.

He struggled. Even though he looked as old as Esbern, he was still terrifically strong.

"Arela!" Serana's shout filled Arela's ears. "Use your vampire seduction on him!"

"I am NOT watching my sister seduce _anyone_!" Enden shouted somewhere nearby. Arela was fairly certain he had a disturbed expression on his face.

"Shut up, Enden. Vampire seduction doesn't work like _that,_" Arela heard Serana scold him. However, Arela was currently too preoccupied wrestling down the Moth Priest to really care or even grin at the joke.

For an older man, and for someone who wasn't exactly a warrior, he was one tough opponent. She desperately tried to keep him still while she prepared the calming seduction ability.

"I'm not afraid of you!" the old man yelped, as Arela pushed his hands harder against his upper back.

"You should be," she growled, as she fought to keep both her hands on him at all times.

Arela felt a calming vibe rising in her palms. It drained out of her body and radiated directly into the scholar.

She could feel his muscles relax as he calmed down, and his struggles ceased. Within seconds, he was limply lying underneath her, all resistance gone.

Serana got to her feet, and took a moment to regain her balance. "Good," she said, a little breathlessly. "Now, make him your thrall. All you have to do is bite him on the neck."

"W-What?" Arela stammered in disbelief. She must have heard Serana wrong.

"Just bite him." Serana motioned to her fangs.

Arela tensed; she had never bitten anyone as a vampire.

Suppressing the churning, queasy feeling in her stomach, she slowly leaned down towards the Moth Priest's neck, and without giving herself a chance to hesitate, sank her fangs into his tender flesh.

The taste of his blood was startling, to say the least; it was fresh, clean, and most of all, warm. Arela couldn't remember the last time she had fed, and now she was finding it difficult to pry herself off.

"Arela, you can let him go." Serana's voice broke her near uncontrollable frenzy.

"Uh, right." Arela detached her fangs, her body screaming in protest, but she reluctantly let the Priest go. She slowly got to her feet and stepped back.

She, Enden and Serana, in silence, watched the scholar stir, then stumble to his feet. He looked bewildered, as if he had been cured of blindness and was only looking at the world for the first time.

"By the Divines!" he whispered in a very strange voice. "It's as if my eyes have been opened..." His gaze fell on Arela, and he murmured, "I am blinded by the light of your majesty. I-I _must _obey you. My name is Dexion Evicus. What would you have of me, mistress?"

"Okay...that's disturbing," Enden stated unceremoniously.

"Well, it got the job done," Serana remarked in an eerily calm voice, shooting Enden a look that purely told him to shut his mouth.

"Remind me _not_ to piss off my sister."

"Just be quiet, so I can tell my new thrall what to do." Arela could feel Enden and Serana eating away at her last nerve with their snippy comments, not to mention the weirdness of the words _my new thrall_. She cleared her throat and focused on Dexion. "Thrall. I want you to travel to Castle Volkihar."

"Wait! What are you doing Arela? I thought we were reading the Scroll here!" Enden interjected.

"My father will send his goons after us if we don't get the Moth Priest to him," Serana explained, drily. "We can still tell you what Dexion said, after we get him to read the Scroll to us."

"But I thought we were going to kill Harkon? Why in Oblivion would we let him know more about the prophecy?"

"Because he has to think everything is normal," answered Arela quickly, knowing that Enden still had a loaded crossbow. "We _will_ kill him, but all in good time. If we give our plan away now, Harkon will have time to think how he can counteract out plan."

She knew that this wouldn't be the last time Enden would express his desire to storm in and kill Harkon. Her brother was impulsive, so the idea of patiently waiting for the right time to strike on Harkon was going to drive him mad. "We will kill Harkon, I promise," she reassured him.

Dexion yanked at Arela's attention. "Certainly, master. Where can I find this castle?"

"Off the northwestern coast of Skyrim, due west of Solitude." Arela answered.

"I'll set out there at once." He darted with surprising speed for an old man who had just been enthralled by a vampire down the tower steps, vanishing around the bend.

There was an awkward pause. "What now?" Serana asked, breaking it. "Should we head back to the castle, Arela?"

"I guess. Enden, do you want to stay in my house in Solitude while Serana and I travel to Castle Volkihar?"

Enden frowned, then nodded. "Just remember to come back and tell me what the Moth Priest said. That way we can decide what to do next."

"Agreed," Serana and Arela both responded simultaneously.

* * *

The three began to backtrack through the large and beautiful cavern. No one spoke, and Arela could sense the waves of tension rolling off Enden. He must have been stewing over all the events of the day so far.

Arela could hardly believe everything that had happened so far. She was slightly happy to return to Castle Volkihar. She was looking forward to sleeping in a soft coffin and quenching the burning that plagued her throat. She still considered the castle its own hellish plane of Oblivion, but at least Serana was there, making it bearable.

Taking the first step into the crisp evening air outside, Arela found herself being swept away in the soft refreshing breeze. The word freedom rang through her head; she was finally free from that stuffy cave. She let the air crash into her pale skin, making her feel more alive than she had in a while. Underground did strange things to her senses.

"Isn't this breeze grand?" she whispered, spreading her arms out as she let the wind rush around her.

"Yeah, it is," Serana answered serenely, and then stiffened. "Wait – do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Arela lowered her arms.

"It...sounds like a low whistling sound." The vampire glanced at Enden, who was merely looking puzzled. He shrugged; he didn't seem to know.

Arela had no idea what Serana was talking about. All she could hear were the sounds of the night.

"I don't hear anyth-" Arela broke off in shock as she saw the source of the mysterious whistling sound Serana detected. But it was too late; too late to move, too late to react, too late to think.

Time seem to slow, only giving Arela enough time to watch her life flash before her eyes.

Her eyes followed an arrow in flight, watched as it found its target, piercing through her Nightingale armour and slamming directly in her left shoulder, right next to heart.

Arela collapsed, and the last thing she was aware of was the overwhelming smell of her own blood.

* * *

**[A/N]: Please don't hate me! I know it was a really evil cliffhanger... Arela's fate is in the balance! But who do you think is trying to kill her? Again sorry about that evil cliffhanger, I'll have the next chapter up soon!**

**Reviews are love, so please leave me some of your thoughts about this chapter. :)**


	18. A Taste of Death

**[A/N]: Hey guys, sorry this chapter took a bit longer than I expected. I just kept redoing parts of it over and over again. But, I hope you guys enjoy it. So here we go... **

**Again, thank you ShoutFinder! :)**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't have rights to the Elder Scroll Series that is the expertise of Bethesda, but Arela, Enden and Neleta are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Nickleback, Far Away**_

_**Just one chance, just one breath  
Just in case there's just one left  
'Cause you know,  
you know, you know  
That I love you  
I have loved you all along  
And I miss you  
Been far away for far too long**_

* * *

Enden watched in horror as an arrow pelted straight into his sister's chest. It was so sudden; he had not expected this. He felt like he was paralyzed; his joints were locked, and he couldn't breathe. His body numbed as he felt Arela's blood splatter on his face. _This must be a dream,_ his dazed mind muttered._ This is just a twisted nightmare, right?_

But he was jerked from his shock when he saw Arela crumple to her knees. She let out a guttural groan as more of her blood poured over the grass.

"No!" Enden screamed. He felt his his body return to him, and he caught Arela before she crashed upon the rocky ground. Tenderly he cradled his sister like a hurt child that needed his protection. Arela was his flesh and blood, his sibling; it had always been his job to protect her, and he had failed.

_Why couldn't I have taken this arrow?_ Enden cried in his mind. _She doesn't deserve this - Arela, of all people, does not deserve this!_

Tears were starting to flow down his cheeks as he watched Arela's bright eyes dull and roll back in her head. She left out another small groan.

"No!" Enden cried. He felt his throat tighten and air refused to enter this throat. "This is all my fault!"

Enden looked up at Serana desperately; she had lived for thousands of years, she _must_ know some healing! But Serana's face was just as shocked as his. She looked Enden with stunned, mournful eyes.

He could see flickers of guilt flashing in the copper-red. Was she thinking it was her fault as well?

"Serana," Enden rasped pleadingly. "Do...do something..." Despair was creeping in his tone.

Serana stared and stuttered. "I...I don't know anything about restoration magic! I'm sorry!" Her voice shook.

Enden held Arela closer to him, trying frantically to staunch the wound with his own hands, to no avail. Her breathing was growing softer. His panic and despair was rising like floodwater being pelted with monsoon rains.

But that was when Enden looked up, and saw something - no, some_one -_ move from atop a rock. _An assassination!? But...who would want Arela dead?_

The moonlight was just bright enough to make out the silhouette. It was unmistakable; there was a woman clad in skintight leather slipping down from a boulder. The assassin instantly bolted toward a small stony ridge, where there was higher ground and an abundance of trees and brush. She was making her escape.

Enden felt rage coursing hot as fire through his veins. If this assailant thought she was getting away with this, she was _dead wrong_. "Serana, take care of Arela! I'm going to get that pile of skeever dung!"

"I'll get her to Dragon Bridge - they must have healers, right?!" That was all Enden heard Serana say before he set off in pursuit.

Without thinking, he ripped out his crossbow. He had never been as good at archery as Arela, but the only chance of slowing the assassin down was hitting her with a bolt.

He pulled the buttstock of the crossbow to his shoulder and loaded in a steel bolt, determined to strike her before the assassin got too far away.

Enden aimed, taking as much time as he dared to; he had used the crossbow long enough to know it had really bad bullet-drop, and he knew to aim high. Finally, as the assailant began to attempt to climb the foot of the ridge, he pulled the trigger.

The bolt soared through the cool night air, and Enden watched as it closed in on the assailant. He silently praised himself for a perfect shot as the bolt crashed into the right back shoulder of the assassin. He watched as the woman tensed in the pain that must have followed, lose her balance on the rocks and tumble roughly down to the ground.

Enden knew it was now or never. He sprinted up the hill.

The woman was desperately trying to regain her footing on the rocks, gripping her shoulder; she knew he was closing in. He saw her frantically attempting to climb, but she was failing; her right arm was too weak to grasp anything tightly.

There was enough light for Enden to make out the red and black leather; undeniably the leather armour of the Dark Brotherhood... a hired, professional assassin, of _course_... Had he really expected anything different?

She heard his advancing footsteps. The woman gave up attempting to climb, whipped around and faced Enden, but she knew she was trapped, like a rabbit in a snare. Enden only could see her eyes as her mask was up and her hood was down, but with the pain he saw malice gleaming there.

She was a small woman, short and little; it was odd, especially since by the brown skin around her eyes, she was a Redguard.

Enden was in range of attacking and so he sprang at the assassin, tackling her.

They both tumbled onto the ground, wrestling to trying to gain the upper hand. Their arms were flailing, reaching, grabbing, pulling, hitting. Enden was able to use his brute strength to force the wounded Redguard down on the ground; she cried out as the bolt worked deeper into her shoulder.

Enden finally landed a full blown punch into the sternum of the Redguard; there was a gruesome crack as Enden's fist smashed into her chest and ribs. Enden could feel the air being driven from her, felt bone tear through skin, and blood began to run around his hand.

The assassin groaned in agony, as she watched her own crimson blood flow from her chest in broken streams.

Enden wrapped his other hand around the assassin's neck and tightened his grip on her throat.

"Who sent you?!" Enden screamed in ragged gasps as he fought to catch his breath.

The Redguard looked at Enden; her eyes showed no fear. "Go to the Void," she hissed. "I'm glad that vampire scum will be dead. " She choked and spat her blood in his face.

There was no other emotion Enden felt but rage.

"How did you know Arela was a vampire?" Enden hissed; he barely had the stamina to yell it.

The assassin held her tongue, and her silence made Enden angrier.

"Tell me! Or I swear by all Divines, I will kill you without mercy!" Enden shook the Redguard's neck.

"Go meet the Dread Father." The assassin gasped and spat again, blood gathering at the corners of her mouth.

Her breaths had become labored; it seemed that Enden's punch had shattered her ribs, and shards of bone had punctured her lungs. She jerked with agony as she gulped for air.

She struggled trying to release herself from Enden's iron grip. But it wasn't long before the Redguard's struggle became so feeble that he knew he didn't have to hold her down anymore.

Enden let her go; she wasn't going to tell him anything, and he was tempted to leave her to die.

But then he saw she had a small note she was gripping into, as if her life depended on it.

Enden leaned down and ripped it from slackening fingers.

Slowly he uncumpled it, and read it.

_Naleta,_

_The Black Sacrament was performed; some fool named Isran wants the woman Arela dead. As you may know, she is the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild; she is highly dangerous and capable at defending herself with more than just a bow. Be very discreet with this assassination. The last thing the Dark Brotherhood needs is a war with the Guild._

_Proceed in this contract with caution, as I informed you she is exceptionally skilled with a bow. Isran also said she is thought to be a vampire. Do not fail us, Neleta; we have already received payment for the assassination, and I don't want Maven Black-Briar on my arse._

_Leader of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim,_

_Astrid_

"No..." Enden choked out. "This can't be... Isran, you... you backstabbing bastard!"

* * *

Serana carried Arela in her arms, trying not to lean on the arrow that was still firmly implanted in her shoulder. Arela was unconscious, mostly from the shock from the wound and bloodloss, but Serana could feel her body trembling, and every so often she would let out a soft groan.

Blood was still flowing from the wound, and Serana realized they were leaving a trail of blood behind them.

The arrow was what made Serana the most anxious, but she knew better than to remove it; it would open the wound even more and cause more bleeding, and without any healing supplies or bandages, Arela would bleed out in minutes.

It was surprising how much Arela weighed when she was entirely limp; even with superhuman strength, Arela felt like solid stone. Serana wasn't quite sure how much longer she could carry her anymore; her back ached and her arms screamed in protest. Her body wanted her to stop, but Serana knew she couldn't and wouldn't; not with Arela's life on the line.

Finally, the Nordic bridge with the giant stone head of a snarling dragon appeared, putting some of Serana's anxiety to rest. Increasing her pace, Serana rushed across as the dull lights of a village became more distinct.

Serana quickly set down Arela to throw her hood up; she couldn't afford to let anyone know she was a vampire, for obvious reasons. Carefully, Serana gathered her wounded friend up in her arms again and continued to hurry towards the town.

"Help!" Serana shouted, as she tumbled through the small town of Dragon's Bridge. "I need help!"

It was the dead of night, and the only person out was a local watchman. He strolled down the street in haste, trying to find Serana's voice in the dark.

Finally the guard clad in red armour approached. "What seems to be the probl-?" He cut himself off when he took closer look at the arrow jutting out of her chest.

"I need a healer, now," Serana vehemently begged the guard. "She was shot."

The guard's face was unreadable under his helmet, but Serana could almost see him thinking.

"We don't have any healers in the town," he said quickly. "Your best chance would probably be the Penitus Oculatus outpost." He pointed it out. "They are the Emperor's personal security guards - they may have a potion to spare. It's in the middle of town, just over there..."

Serana didn't even respond; she instantly rushed over to the wooden house the guard had gestured to. Serana was careful not to trip as she hurried up the small steps in front of the small headquarters.

As she approached, Serana slowly realized she couldn't open the door, not without dropping Arela first.

With a resigned sigh, Serana kicked down the wooden door, watching as it crashed to the ground.

Warm air bathed her as she walked into the room. Despite the dire situation, Serana had been expected something more extravagant for an Emperor's guard outpost; the only furniture visible were a few tables, chairs and beds. Her heart lurched when there weren't any healing supplies in sight.

Serana saw the soldiers clad in black body plated armour with dull red accents. They were all clustered by a fireplace sharing drinks, and sharing stories. They had, however, been attracted by the sound of Serana and Arela entering.

"What in the name of Akatosh is going on?" one of the soldiers shouted at her.

Serana pulled herself together. "My friend needs medical attention! The guard outside said you would be the only people that could help her."

The soldiers stared, as if she had just babbled at them in Dunmeris.

Fear and impatience made Serana's patience snap. "She needs help, _now_!" Her words jump-started the soldiers around her. They all sprang into action, searching through chests, pulling items out: bandages, healing potions and rags. Serana wasn't one who worshipped the Gods but she would have willingly praised them for there being supplies after all.

"Put her on the table so we can remove the arrow," One of the soldiers commanded. Another cleared the table in record time - cups, crockery and cutlery and oddly enough, an uneaten sweetroll – went flying across the room. Serana gently set Arela's limp body on the table.

"Can you help her?" she begged.

The soldiers moved forward. A senior officer examined Arela, but his face grew grave. "We will do our best to save her," he said quietly, "but I won't make promises; we aren't trained healers, and the wound is dangerously close to her heart."

"You have to save her..." Serana begged. "I need her..."

"She seems sickly already, though; why is your friend so pale? Nords resist the snow but they're not as white."

Serana stiffened. Normally she would have laughed at such an observation, but mirth wasn't resident within her at this time. Serana quickly thought of a logical answer. "Blood loss, I guess," she said vaguely. "Normally she isn't quite as pale." She moved past him, standing close to Arela's side and silently praying for a miracle.

Serana took Arela's hand and squeezed it tightly, wincing when she felt its icy touch.

"You need to stand clear; we need to remove her armour to close up the wound."

"I-I can't leave her side when she needs me..." Serana attempted to argue. Without fuss, two soldiers shoved her out of the way, and away from Arela.

Serana let out a muffled, irritated hiss, but didn't attempt to argue further; they were the ones doing her a favour. To work off her rising anxiety and frustration, she started pacing around them, her heart pounding in her throat.

One of the soldiers was carefully removing the arrow that was lodged deep into her chest. After a few wiggles of the arrow's shaft the whole thing finally came out, earning a muted gasp and a moan of pain from the unconscious Arela.

Serana watched in horror as crimson instantly started flowing from the wound; leaking all over the table and Arela's armour.

The soldiers instantly went to work, peeling off Arela's blood stained armour so they could try and bandage the wound. They weren't bothered by the sight of blood or injury, and Serana supposed they must see even more gruesome sights as soldiers.

But as they removed the armour, Serana saw _them._

The angry scars that coated Arela's body. They ranged from old burns to huge fang marks to slashes and marks from piercing arrows and swords.

Serana was amazed. Arela had always covered her body with her skintight midnight-black armour. Right next to her wound were two other visible and fierce-looking scars. Clearly this wasn't the first time someone had stabbed her in the left shoulder.

But there Arela lay on the table, looking so small and vulnerable in her underclothes, bleeding, bleeding, bleeding, and there was nothing Serana could do.

Serana had never felt so helpless before... and despite herself, she wanted Enden here. Was he on his way back now... or had the assassin...?

_No. _Serana paced faster. _I won't think that way._

The soldiers were trying hard to stop the bleeding to the best of their abilities. The once clean rags were now soaked in blood.

Serana felt awful. She was internally kicking herself for not stopping this. She had heard the damn arrow; why hasn't she reacted sooner?

Finally, after minutes of frantic pacing, Serana finally sat down and gave up on her brooding. There was no point in replaying the event over in her head. There was no point in wondering what she could have done differently. The past was the past... all she could do was hope.

The soldiers had successfully closed and wrapped bandages over the wound, but it was obvious the bandages wouldn't last long; already they were stained.

Serana sat in silence, watching the soldiers patch Arela up, but after a while she turned away. It was too much to watch as they struggled to get the bleeding to stop.

She buried her face in her hands. _This can't be happening! _She begged and prayed to every Aedra and Daedra she could think of. _Save Arela! Spare her, Arkay, Nocturnal, Molag Bal, please!_

That was when Enden burst through the doorway. He had run hard and fast; Serana could hear his heart pounding in his chest. "Where is Arela!" he yelled, using the doorframe as a support. He must have run all the way from wherever the assassin had run off to, to Dragon Bridge.

Serana lifted her head, aware her face bore a disheartened expression.

"Where's Arela?" Enden said frustrated.

"Sh-She's on the table, the soldiers are trying to patch her up..." For the second time in an hour she had stammered.

Serana heard Enden's heart skip a beat. "What do you mean they 'trying' to patch her up? Haven't they finished yet?"

"She...she doesn't have a pulse!" one of the soldiers suddenly cried.

Serana got up. Vampires had very slow heartbeats, almost undetectable to normal mortals. He must be mistaken, Serana told herself. But still...but...

She pushed her way through the group of soldiers and grabbed Arela's wrist. Tensely she tried to detect a pulse... But there was nothing. Arela's body was so still. She wasn't breathing...

Serana felt her own heart breaking. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. Serana checked again for a pulse but there was nothing. She checked over and over again. She must be mistaken!

Finally Serana couldn't contain it anymore. "No... Arela, wake up! You can't be dead!"

* * *

**[A/N]: This is the last major cliffhanger for a bit, I think I've been evil enough to you guys lately, so I won't leave you guys hanging too long. The next chapter is almost half way done and it will actually be coming out early. So, what did you guys think of this chapter?**

**Reviews are love, so please leave me some of your thoughts about this chapter. :)**


	19. Visit From a Deity

**[A/N]: Hey guys, this update is early, like I promised! Again, thank you guys for all the support! I really didn't even realized until today, but we are well over 200 reviews! I'm really excited for this chapter, so I'll just let you guys read. :) **

**Again, thank you ShoutFinder for letting me borrow Pass, and for all the beta work you've done, I truly appreciate it! If you guys really haven't checked out her story _Torn_, I absolutely suggest you do! It's a lovely story, featuring some of the most popular Dragonborns in fanfiction. **

**********[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's right. But Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me. Also, Pass, a borderland world, very much so, belongs to ShoutFinder.  
**

* * *

_**~Elena Siegman, Lullaby of a Dead Man**_

_**Father, why have you forsaken me?  
My life is gone  
Father, know how long it's taken me?  
I live again**_

* * *

Arela felt cold air brush her cheek, bitterly nipping at her skin. Her muscles ached, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain that once had ravaged her body.

Letting out a deep breath, Arela looked around. She couldn't tell where she was, but the last thing she remembered was... blood. Lots of it, and her own, if she recalled correctly. For some reason, she couldn't seem to recall why she had been bleeding. Had she been injured? Every time she tried to recollect anything, a headache would surface, blocking and interfering with her thoughts.

Her eyelids felt so heavy. They required too much effort to open, so Arela lay there in darkness.

But she knew she couldn't hide forever in her self induced blackness; she would have to face whatever reality was around her eventually, and after a moment, Arela reluctantly opened her eyes.

She hissed as the sight of harsh white light stung her vision, so bright it was blinding. Arela recoiled at the light, waiting for its radiant rays to burn her pale skin. She was a vampire... the sun was suppose to irritate and scald her. So why wasn't it?

Time passed but she felt nothing. For the last month she has been avoiding the sun, and now suddenly, here she sat, absorbing the rays as though she were pure and whole again, untainted with vampirism. Confusion was washing over her. How was this possible? Serana had told her light would scorch her, and personally, for her it created an illusion of bugs crawling wildly under her skin.

She squinted, hoping to shut out the worst of the bright light. Feeling her eyes adjusting to the world around her, more slowly she fully opened them once more.

Arela gazed at the world around her; it was nothing more than pure white snow and barren, jagged mountains, as far as the eye could see.

Were Serana and Enden here with her? Was she near Castle Volkihar? Where was she? Northern Skyrim? Did they leave her in Winterhold for some reason? Was this even Nirn anymore...?

It couldn't be. No place in Skyrim looked like this. Mountains usually contained a small amount trees and vegetation, and usually animals and game roamed nearby. Or...the thought sent tendrils of ice clutching at her spine. Was she _dead_...?

Arela felt a chilling wind rip through the valley, scalding her body more than the light...or the sun...whatever it was. She shivered; she hadn't felt this cold since her last days of mortality, when she was sitting outside Castle Volkihar waiting for Enden to come back.

Arela lifted her hands to rub them together in an effort to warm herself. If she was desperate, she thought, she'd conjure some flames to keep her warm.

But when Arela brought her hands together, she was shocked at what she saw. Her hands were transparent; she could see through them! _How is this possible!? _she thought in near disbelief, examining the rest of her.

She started at her ethereal self, watching her fingers as they gave off a glowing essence. Her skin was coloured a light, chalky blue, and gave off a bizarre and yet beautiful illuminating mist that fell away at her fingertips.

Arela's mind whirled. _What is going on? __Am__I dead?_ No... such a thing, impossible! She couldn't be... she was still needed! Enden and Serana needed her. She couldn't be taken away from them now! They needed each other.

But her thoughts were violently side tracked, as a familiar roaring filled the pale valley. She recognized that deep thundering noise. _A dragon..._

She leapt to her feet. She wasn't going to lie on the ground during a dragon attack; it'd easily see her from the sky.

Arela instinctively reached for her bow. She really didn't know what to expect.

To her dismay, her hand scraped against empty air, and she grabbed at nothing. _Well, this is lovely_. Looked like she'd have to fight a dragon bare-handed.

It glided into her vision, a massive shape and splash of color against the bleak sky. It dive-bombed down, aiming at her.

For a moment, Arela wondered... was it possible to die in this realm where she was already ethereal?

But as the dragon got closer to the ground, it pulled up slightly, enough for its wings to flutter irregularly to steady itself.

Its wings beat faster and faster as it got closer to the ground; snow was starting to fly into Arela's eyes. She wanted to close them to protect them from the uncomfortable, frosty stinging, but she didn't know what this dragon would do.

Finally the dragon landed, its weight making the ground. Arela stumbled, but she gained her balance.

Arela kept her eyes locked on the dragon before her. It was hard to get a good look at it, mainly because of the light shining around it. She wasn't sure what was going on; normally a dragon would have torn her to tiny pieces by now. Instead, there it was, sitting and gazing at her. So what was this about?

She tensed as it opened its jaws, but instead, only a deep, rumbling voice cooed to her: "_Drem yol lok_, my _kiir_, my child."

Arela finally adjusted to the light. It subsided in its strength, and it revealed the dragon in greater clarity. Her breath left her; it (he?) was easily twice the size of Alduin, but this dragon wasn't him. It was evident based upon the white color of his scales, which had a bright fiery shimmer to them. His scales were like a holy white coat of armour; dense, but ornate, and glowed with an aura of their own.

The dragon had sparking blue eyes, that resembled the brilliant azure of the sky.

"Who are you?" Arela finally managed to say, taken aback by his voice and appearance alone.

The dragon bowed his head. "To you, I am Akatosh. But I have many other names; Auriel, Auri-El, Alkosh, Creator of Time and Chief Deity of the Nine Divines."

"Akatosh!" Arela exclaimed in disbelief. She inclined her head low, and murmured uncertainly, "How are you here? Aren't you supposed to be in Aetherius?"

"Yes, I should!" Akatosh rumbled. "However for you, my champion, I have made an exception. This world you see around you is Pass, a land between _laas ahrk dinok_, life and death, _vokul _and _pruzah, _evil and good, and the centre of all things divided. I have weakened myself and sacrificed my power that I may _tinvaak_, speak, with you, _Dovahkiin_."

"Wait? So, I'm dead, aren't I?" Arela said, slowly feeling tears welled up in her eyes. She wasn't sad about her death; what stung her more was the manner in which she had left Serana and Enden. She had never said goodbye, or any encouraging words to them before her departure from Nirn. She felt slightly cheated out of her life.

Enden was going to be distraught and go an emotional spiral downwards, and Serana would hold every little emotion of sorrow in, letting it eat away at her.

But then Akatosh smiled, and Arela felt a strange and soothing warmth fill her. "Not quite," he said gently. "Do not _faas_, fear, my _kiir_. Your time on _Vus_, Nirn, is not quite complete. For you are not fully _dilon_, dead; you are trapped in a plane that is _between_ worlds."

Arela quietly stewed over Akatosh's words. She had so many questions she wanted to ask.

"Are you letting me to go back to Nirn?" Arela asked, very quietly. She felt unsure around Akatosh - more so around a Dragon God. Why wouldn't he claim her soul, or just pass her spirit on to Sovngarde or Evergloam?

A small draconic smile worked its way across Akatosh's mighty maw. "Because you have not fulfilled your destiny yet."

"So slaying Alduin wasn't the end of destiny?" Arela had a hard time keeping the frustration out of her voice. She often wondered when her days as a tool of fate would be over, but by the appearance of a God telling her that she wasn't finished, she assumed never. She would be an instrument of prophecies and destiny for the rest of her life.

Akatosh rose a little higher, his eyes glowing brighter. "You, my _mon_, my daughter, defeated my firstborn son, Alduin, but that was only part of your destiny, _Dovahkiin_." Akatosh paused for a second before continuing in his robust voice. "Arela, my very _paazigran_, influence, is at threat. You must protect the sun."

Arela's jaw dropped. Was a God asking her to protect the sun?

"Let me explain," Akatosh said calmly to Arela's reaction.

"I am unable to manifest myself on _Vus_, Nirn, like the Daedra can. My only influence on _Vus _is the _Krein_, the sun. As my daughter, who contains my gifted _dovahsos, _dragonblood_, _I ask of you to stop Harkon and Vyrthur. They wish to destroy my last connection to _Vus_, Nirn. They are so set on _suleyk_ _ahrk nahkriin_, power and vengeance, they do not care for the consequences of their actions."

Arela's head spun. It was already crazy enough she was talking to an Aedra in the flesh... if they had any. Even more so when it was a God that was the father of her kind, Dragonborn, but the fact that he was asking her to stop Harkon? It was almost insanity. And Vyrthur... Arela had no clue who this Vyrthur was, but he was probably crazier than Harkon if he had angered Akatosh.

"Harkon, I know, and I plan to stop him," Arela stated. "But who is this Vyrthur?"

Akatosh threw back his mighty head and a strange sound thrummed through the air. If Arela didn't know better, it sounded like he was laughing. "You _joorre _are so curious - I have nearly forgotten!" His brilliant blue eyes shone like flawless diamonds, and he turned them back to her. "He is the one who created this prophecy, the one Harkon calls the Tyranny of the Sun. There are two parts to this prophecy, and one involves you, _Dovahkiin_."

Arela was shocked, how many prophecies involved her? She couldn't help but wonder.

"The first prophecy alludes to the destruction of the sun," said Akatosh. "'Among the night's children, a dreadlord will rise. In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light, day and the night will be as one.'" Akatosh heaved a very un-God-like sigh. "You must stop Harkon from fulfilling this, for day must exist. Day and night balance each other, and to break a balance that has existed for thousands of years will destroy and corrupt - much like the outcome of my firstborn."

"But why would someone create such a prophecy? I just don't understand."

"My own Arch-Curate Vyrthur created it, because of what became of him." For a moment, sorrow gleamed in Akatosh's eyes. "I saw great evil in Vyrthur's heart, unlike his kin, unlike what he was sworn to; he grew too ambitious and arrogant. So I disconnected myself from my own Arch-Curate. But in doing so, I was the one who caused his path to injustice. He became infected with vampirism, something I never foresaw. As his _drog_, lord, I was supposed to protect him from such a disease. But I didn't, and it was too late for me to help him. That was when he discovered of my disapproval of his reign as Arch-Curate." Akatosh's expression was painfully downtrodden. It almost hurt Arela to watch him.

"Struck with rage and betrayal, he vowed to get revenge against me, so he gave up his very soul to create the prophecy known as the Tyranny of the Sun. My own... abandonment... caused this." Akatosh lashed his tail once, sending up a spray of snow.

"I'm sorr-" Arela was about to sympathize with the God, but he cut her off.

"_Niid. _Do not pity me. I deserve it. I was too fickle, and even Gods learn lessons they can't forget." Akatosh's voice rumbled in sadness, and then hardened.

"But I refuse to let this _deyz_, fate, fall upon you, my mon, my daughter. You possess the blood of night, but the soul of day and the sun's fire, and I will redeem myself by helping you complete your destiny. I know of a second prophecy that is connected to you, _Dovahkiin_. 'In an age of chaos, an unwilling soul will rise to defeat a dreadlord. Night and day will be balanced, once evil and good have made their sacrifices.'"

Arela repeated the mantra over and over again; she wanted to remember it. Maybe over some time she could figure it out, though she knew from experience that these kinds of prophecies were best left to figure themselves out.

"What does it mean?" Arela inquired. It never hurt to ask.

Akatosh merely smiled, mysteriously. "You will discover the meaning, all in good _tiid_, time, my _kiir. _Are you ready to return to _Vus?_"

Not quite yet, Arela told herself. She knew she had to ask why had Akatosh bestowed the curse of being Dragonborn on her.

"My lord? I have one last question."

Akatosh dipped his head briefly. "Very well."

"Why did make me _Dovahkiin_?"

The God of Time nodded slowly, as though thinking. "I bestowed you with the _kruziik dovahsos_, ancient dragonblood, simply because I have seen your ancestors valiantly fight alongside those gifted with the Voice. Notably, your ancestor Skorn Snow-Strider, who fought alongside King Harald, Hakon One-Eyed, and Felldir the Wise. He alone brought a _Dovah _Cult to the _golt_, the ground. He was a mighty _joor_. He resides in Sovngarde for his _sodde_, deeds."

Arela was confused. She had never known her ancestor had been involved in the fighting of Dragon Cults.

"I also foresaw your strong _zii ahrk mulaag_, spirit and strength," Akatosh continued. "You may lack confidence in your choices, but you will always find your way on the right path."

But his expression was becoming impatient. "I would love to speak with you more _Dovahkiin_, but I must return to Aetherius. My _mulaag_ wanes while I am in this borderland-plane."

Arela couldn't think of anything else, so she let the words Akatosh wanted to hear pass between her lips. "I'm ready to return." She gazed at Akatosh for a moment longer, saw the mighty Dragon God draw breath. She saw one more glimpse of Pass - barren white snow that suddenly felt repulsively tepid, a bleak sky that was just too dull, the barren mountains like carved hills. Arela closed her eyes and braced herself.

"NAHL DAAL VUS!" Akatosh's Thu'um crashed against her, causing her to feel light and as if she was falling. Her stomach did flips in her abdomen, as she felt air whirl around her. Vaguely she remembered this feeling - the same Shout that Tsun had used in Sovngarde...

Arela felt her hands lash out desperately flailing at anything, but she only caught empty air. Her fingers grazed at nothingness. Her throat tightened and she felt as though she were choking. Her lungs weren't working properly.

Finally, time seemed to slow down, leaving Arela feeling a homeostasis returning to her, but she still couldn't get air to enter her lungs. She tried to reach for her throat, but she couldn't. Her arms were heavy and wouldn't move.

The world was dark around her, and she couldn't see anything. Her eyes felt as though they were glued shut, and she couldn't open them, no matter how much force she tried to muster.

_Help! _Arela's mind pleaded. She was going to choke to death if she couldn't get a breath in a second. Her mind felt hazy.

Finally, Arela felt her lips part and she coughed and felt a small intake of air enter her parched lungs. She kept coughing until her throat was cleared and she finally was able to take one clear breath.

Everything was slowly coming back her; her thoughts, her strength, and all parts of her body were functioning. She was aware of a sharp and burning pain on her left shoulder, just above her heart. That was when a thrilled scream pierced her ears. It was Enden's emotion-soaked voice.

"Serana! Arela is breathing again!"

* * *

**[A/N]: And there you have it, my friends! Thank you for reading!  
**

**Also, the Valerica fiction has finally been updated with a second chapter so, if you guys have time do check it out, it's called _Rising Like Dust._ I have link to the story on my profile. Also, do check out _Torn_, ShoutFinder's story!**

**Reviews are love, so if you have time please leave a review! They really do brighten my day, even if they are only a few words! :)**


	20. Back From the Dead

**[A/N]: Hey guys, this is the twentieth chapter, and I'm so pumped to release it! Though, I'm sorry, this chapter was so late! I sadly got a bit of writers block; I knew what I wanted to write, I just wasn't sure how to express it. Plus I've been trying to work three jobs to pay off the rest of my tuition for college, so try and bare with me. But again, I would love to thank you guys for all the support!**

**I want to give a special thanks to those who have been giving me feed back on the story, so thank you: ShoutFinder, timey, Brunette, Rose, Shadow, Allpowerful, Nytro, Delfin, RatedR, Alien, Ayice, Ninja, Lightning, Valkarious, Erakleon, THEJN, Oddliver, asqwerty, aurora, OldMaster, redchili, Vivid, anonomon, Madgormley, Dimes, Anushiravan, Hitomi, Phoenix, Depressed Critic, Brooks, all you guests, lurkers and readers. All your support has meant so much! :)**

**I would also like to thank Oddliver and asqwerty for helping me work out my ideas, and thank you ShoutFinder, for everything, truly it means a lot to me! :)**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't have rights to the Elder Scroll Series that is the expertise of Bethesda, but Arela and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Modonna, Die Another Day**_

_**I'm gonna break the cycle  
I'm gonna shake up the system  
I'm gonna destroy my ego  
I'm gonna close my body now  
I think I'll find another way  
There's so much more to know  
I guess I'll die another day  
It's not my time to go.**_

* * *

"C-could we have a minute alone to grieve in private...?" Serana asked shakily, to the soldiers that encompassed Arela's body. They were all standing around, looking slightly downtrodden, as if their actions should have saved her.

"Of course," the man named Commander Maro said solemnly. "It's always sad when the young die." He pushed his agents out the door and into the cool midnight air outside. "We'll back in about half an hour to take her body to Solitude, so the priest of Arkay can bless her."

Serana gave him a weak nod. She wasn't sure how to respond to any of this.

She stood there holding Arela's hand, watching her frozen and stiff body, hoping that maybe, _maybe_, there'd be movement. She hoped this whole thing was a mistake, that Arela wasn't dead, she was still alive.

But there was nothing but dead and pounding silence. Arela wasn't breathing and her undead heart was quiet.

Serana squeezed Arela's calloused hand, but there was no response from the squeeze, nothing at all.

There was no way to describe the emptiness she felt. Arela had been her best friend since she had been freed from her stony monolith. Though Arela had been still a bit of a mystery to her, she had been supportive and had tried to protect her. There was no better way to express friendship than sacrifice; especially a life sacrifice, and Arela had sacrificed everything to fight for her and her dysfunctional family. She may have been forced down this path by Father – the path of the vampire – but she had made the best of it.

They had grown to be close friends, both stranded in the same boat, both trapped as servant of fate in a twisted game designed by some evil god or Daedra. Friendship had sprouted out of nothing. Serana had never felt this way about anyone before, this tightly-knit feeling of companionship and loyalty. Serana had always felt a strained kinship with her family. The only reason she ever helped her parents was because of the blood they shared, not because they had always supported her, and definitely not because they were affectionate and caring people. It had always been quite the contrary.

But with Arela, it was a natural, nearly instinctive, reaction to want to protect her. And Serana had been thoroughly convinced that their feelings of friendship had started to develop further...

She had felt this wasn't just a general friendship anymore. There was something else... Often Serana had found herself falling into moments of curiosity, and started to wonder things that she was fairly certain she shouldn't be wondering about, especially as... well, now she found herself rather unwilling to go there at all. It didn't seem appropriate.

In the past, it had become a bad habit to stare at a certain part of Arela's face while she was distracted and not paying attention. Serana had, however, always hesitated. It was just curiosity, but what would have happened if she acted? Would Arela have hated her? Would she even have been afraid of her?

Those little fears had kept Serana at bay, not pushing her any farther. The unknown had kept her stagnant, feeling too weak to venture further. But now she regretted not acting on them. She would never know Arela's reaction now. Serana would never have her questions answered, and regret would be the only thing she would feel.

Serana could feel her very body sinking, as if all of Nirn had just done a high dive straight into her arms. All the things that were going to happen, all the sadness they were going to have to bear, it was looming over her like a monster.

Serana and Enden would have to bury Arela... and then what would happen?

Serana didn't want to go home, not without Arela. Father would surely be disappointed about Arela's death. He had expected her to be a slave for eternity, doing his bidding and gaining him unlimited amounts of power, though Serana knew Arela would never do such a thing.

No, Serana thought. She would just have to continue trying to stop Father. Arela would want this; Arela would want to see Father fail.

Arela's hand was colder than ice. It was actually numbing Serana's fingers, and her hands had a Nordic and vampiric resistance to cold.

Serana looked at Enden; he hasn't moved an inch the whole time. She was pretty sure he was still in shock, as he gaped at Arela's body. He resembled a statue, with his frozen face and expression, unable to break away from the emotional trauma he seemed to be suffering from.

Too stricken with her own sorrow, Serana remain silent; she would grieve in the privacy of her own mind. She preferred it that way.

Serana had always hated the way her parents had grieved when they were inflicted with sorrow. Mother had always been so dramatic, and had erupted on Father when she was upset and distraught. It had driven Serana crazy when she had had to listen to them fight all the time. They had fought over everything, from the people in the court to the prophecy. They had never been compatible, and Serana had often wondered how they had gotten married. How had they once loved each other? Mother had always alluded to them being happily married before, but Serana had difficulty believing it.

Serana remembered when Mother had moved out of Father's room, right after her aunt had died. It had been odd, like Mother had wanted to cut all emotional ties with Father. It had been the moment their whole relationship had finally crashed and burned. They had stopped talking, and Mother had shooed Serana away.

But Father, of course, was emotionally numb. He was stone cold; something had killed her real father long ago. Serana had always wondered what - the blood or something more? - but she had always been too terrified to ask, and on top of being very distant with her father, she wasn't comfortable asking about his personal life.

He obviously preferred to bury the past, and obviously cared little for her Mother, judging by the way he had spoken about her at his and Serana's reuniting. Father had destroyed everything that mattered to Mother. He had blocked off the courtyard – Mother's haven – and he had blocked off the entrance to her study and bedroom. Serana could only imagine he had trashed the place in a fit of rage; he had a vicious temper.

Serana had been lost in her sullen thoughts when Enden finally stirred. He got up and started balling. Tears were dragging down his face, and Serana observed as some of his tears got caught in his light, scruffy brown whiskers.

Sometimes Serana wondered about him. _How did Arela live with him around? He's too emotional. Is it even possible for him to hold in a single emotion?_

"Do you really have to be so dramatic?" Serana hissed. "We're both mourning here, but you don't have to be so loud and obnoxious."

Enden looked up, and his expression was extremely dark. "No one ever told me you were so cold..." he growled. "I just lost my sister, the last of my flesh and blood that I actually cared about." His voice raised to an enraged shout. "But what would you know of losing family? Your parents are still alive!" His words cut like a dagger in Serana's mind.

Serana snarled, "I just lost my best friend! And don't bring my parents into this, they have nothing to do with this!"

"Your father has everything to do with this!" Enden shot back. "He turned Arela into a monster, as well as a tool!" Tears streamed from his eyes.

"Keep my father out of this," Serana growled. "I don't like him anymore than you do, but this wasn't his fault. I don't know who did this, but they will pay, dearly..." Serana's tone changed. Her voice was barely audible. This wasn't Father's fault. Though, it was hard to say he had nothing to do with this, he was probably a catalysis, the starter of this chain of these unfortunate events. Serana couldn't believe she was trying to justify his actions.

Enden went back to his crying and whimpering; the only difference now was he was holding Arela's other hand.

Letting out some pathetic sniffles, Enden finally spoke again. "I know who did this. It was Isran, Astrid and Maven Black-Briar. They all wanted Arela dead..." Enden cut himself off with a violent sneeze.

"And who are they?" Serana inquired. She had heard of Isran – the leader of the Dawnguard, but this Astrid and Maven were new names to her.

"Both business partners of Arela's." Enden spoke quietly. He was preoccupied with wiping his nose.

"Great..." Serana muttered. "How come business partners always want revenge?" Another exasperated sigh escaped her.

"Astrid's is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood," Enden responded, through heavy and angry sniffles. "She and Arela have somewhat of an agreement, and a light friendship. But Maven was a strict ally of the Thieves Guild. Honestly, no matter how much Arela hated to admit it, Maven was her boss." His voice hardened and became dark. "I'm personally going to make Isran pay for this. But first, I want to know he got involved with Dark Brotherhood. It will surely taint his reputation."

Serana lowered her gaze. She couldn't stand to look into Enden's pained eyes.

"I understand wanting revenge for this, but don't do it. Would Arela really approve?" Serana tried her best to make Enden consider his actions.

"Arela would understand, she would want me to do this." Letting out a frustrated hiss, Enden clenched his gloved fists.

_Just ignore his grief stricken banter_, Serana just repeated to herself. _Enden is very impulsive. He'll realize soon he's wrong._

Out of the corner of her eye, something attracted her attention. Serana looked up. It was Arela's skin; it was glittering gold in color.

Serana let go of Arela's hand and took a step back, uncertainty sweeping over her. She rubbed her eyes quickly, just to make sure they were working properly.

"Are you seeing what I am, Enden?" Serana asked, her voice almost failing her. _This is insanity. _Maybe the days events were making her hallucinate? She was almost certain this was impossible.

"Okay, so I'm not crazy, you're seeing this too." Enden was staring and staring, stepping back from his sister as well. Serana peeled her eyes off Arela just long enough to catch his dumbfounded expression.

Serana watched in awe as Arela's body levitated slightly in the air for a mere second. She was quite literally off the table and in the air. It was as if her corpse was being reanimated, or possessed, or something. Light illuminated from her body, giving her a golden glow.

Then suddenly her body slammed against the table with a dull thud; and a groan was heard shortly after.

Arela released a loud and angry moan of pain. She stirred slightly. _She's alive! _Serana found her mind screaming in joy, and was almost certain a small scream escaped her as well. _Finally, some good news!_

"Serana!" cried Enden in amazement. "Arela is breathing again!"

The first thing Arela did was try to grip her left shoulder. She was desperately trying to cover the wound with her hand, but to no avail. She seemed to have no strength and her arms barely responded to her commanded action.

Serana watched as Arela shakily lifted her head off the table; her eyes were glassy and her expression was dazed.

"Help..." she murmured, before she collapsed again. "My arm..." She let out another tiny whimper. "My throat... It's on fire."

Serana had millions of questions to ask Arela – one being, how was she alive?! – but she knew they could wait now. Arela needed their help.

After years of experience with being around vampires, Serana knew exactly what was wrong with Arela's throat. She was thirsty; she probably hadn't fed recently, and this injury had taken a toll on her body, one that had killed her... or something similar to death.

Serana lost her focus and before she could step in, Enden dived to Arela's side. It must have been an instantaneous reaction, a bond that siblings must have. A bond that was sometimes unbreakable, and a bond that gave Enden his unfathomable trust and faith in Arela.

As Enden leaned down to assist his sister, Arela's gaze turned into that of a predator's; her eyes flashed that primitive expression of survival and hunger, eyes that could sense the vulnerability in their prey.

Arela must have used all the strength she had left to make a instinctual jolt for Enden's exposed neck.

Serana grabbed Enden's shoulder and yanked him back, just in time to save him from a vicious bite.

"Arela!" Enden yelled. "What the hell was that?" His tone expressed his discombobulation.

Serana warned him, "She can't help herself. Feeding is the only way her body knows how to gain strength. Just let me take care of this."

"Arela, I'm... I'm your brother!" Enden shuffled back; there was definitely a certain anger in his movements. To Serana he exclaimed, "I can't believe she didn't recognize me!"

It was frustrating dealing with Enden. Serana couldn't help but see him as slightly childish. "It's her vampiric survival instincts kicking in," she stated, as though this was meant to be obvious for a vampire hunter.

Quickly, Serana pulled out a very small vial out of her knapsack. It was a tiny blood potion, nothing like the ones Father had, but it would be enough to give Arela some energy. Serana needed to get her back home, mostly so Garan could take a look at the wound – he was the Castle's grand healer. Arela turned her hungry eyes to Serana's, but seeing that the new person leaning over her was immortal, didn't attempt a feed.

Serana tilted Arela's head up so she could spill the vial's contents down her throat. The blood almost worked immediately; Arela swallowed, sputtered, and looked up again shortly after.

Her eyes were much clearer, and Serana could tell she was finally focusing on the world around her. The haziness had faded, and relief washed over Serana.

_Well_, she thought, _the next step is to get Arela dressed back up._ There was no way in Coldharbour Serana was dragging Arela back to the Castle with no clothes on. That would definitely not go over well with anyone.

"Help me redress Arela, Enden," Serana politely asked, as she collected all the armour that had been tossed aside in the mad rush to try and patch up their owner's wound.

"I'm not going near her," Enden muttered stubbornly. "She nearly killed me – she tried to _eat_ me!"

"Damn it, Enden help me!" Serana unleashed her frustration on him. This was so unbearable, his stubborn, jejune and unreasonable reactions. She clenched her fists, fighting down the urge to punch him in the head.

"Enden?" Arela's voice interjected into the rising argument, sounding uncertain. "I'm f-fine, Enden. Couldn't control it earlier... H-help, Serana..." Her voice was weak, but it seemed to knock Enden out of his stubborn attitude.

He slowly approached and gingerly helped Serana dress Arela.

As Arela leaned on her brother, Serana carefully armoured Arela in her Nightingale attire; as lightly as she could manage, she brought the skintight, damaged nightblack armour over their owner's bandages.

Serana felt Arela force down a yelp; the wound wasn't fully closed and still extremely tender.

Finally, Arela was dressed, and they could leave. With her friends standing guard, Arela shakily tried to get to her feet, but she wasn't strong enough, so Serana grabbed Arela's uninjured side and let her lean against her.

"T-thanks," Arela murmured as she wrapped her arm behind Serana's neck for support. They exited the small wooden house.

Enden drifted behind them as they exited, and started lagging behind. Serana caught him in the corner of her eye as he tried to make a sneak break away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Serana challenged. "I thought you were going to wait in Solitude?"

"I thought I would make a small trip to... Eh Fort Dawnguard... I need to talk to Isran. But I'll be in Solitude in a day or two. Not like I'm allowed at Castle Volkihar..."

"Why do you need to go to Fort Dawnguard? Doesn't stopping my father mean more to you than speaking with Isran?" Serana couldn't fight the anger in her voice. _What in the name of Oblivion is Enden thinking?_

"Is talking to Isran really more important than your sister's health?" Serana let out another frustrated hiss.

Enden starting jogging away, leaving Serana standing with an injured Arela clinging to her. "It involves Arela. I'll be back soon!" Enden called as he ran away.

Serana desperately wanted to kick him. How could he be such an inconsiderate ass?! Just leaving Arela and her behind to get to Castle Volkihar on their own. Serana let out one last frustrated sigh, before she turned back to the task at hand. _Time to get back to Castle Volkihar, the Moth Priest, and of course, Father..._

* * *

**[A/N]: So, what did you guys think of this chapter?**

**Reviews are love, so please leave me some of your thoughts about this chapter. Also, I'm very curious, and would love to hear what everyone thinks of Harkon. I have been getting so many mixed reactions on him, I just want to know where everyone stands. If you could please leave your thoughts of him in a review or PM I would love you to death! Again, thank you to everyone that reviews, follows and favorites! :)  
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	21. Of Prophecies and Foresight

**[A/N]: Hey guys, for quite awhile I have been excited to write this chapter! I have added my own court member to this story, simply because I'm going to write a whole short story about her later on. (Which you can find the summary under 'upcoming fictions' on my profile page. So if you have time check it out and tell me what you think.) Honestly, I'm very excited to present this chapter to you lovely readers. So here is another chapter from Harkon's perspective. Enjoy! :)**

**Thank you ShoutFinder, for everything, truly it means a lot to me! :)**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scroll Series that is Bethseda's gig not mine, I'm just giving them the credit they deserve. But Arela, Enden, and Celta are my characters and I call all rights to them.**

* * *

_**~Black Veil Brides, Unbroken**_

_**Now you're adrift in a sea of lies  
A foolish Villain in an endless chapter  
The demons writhing behind your eyes  
A simple shadow we can fight together**_

* * *

Harkon sat in his throne idly watching the candles flicker. There was nothing better than sitting in his throne, presiding and watching over his court as they ate. It was a rare luxury he indulged himself in.

Mostly because he enjoyed having his privacy, but it was exhilarating listening to the fearful silence; the type of silence that not a soul was brave enough to break. The dining hall and its members were mute, save for the occasional obnoxious chomp from Modhna and Namasur, his lower court members. They did nothing of value, but their allegiance to him was enough. So he would spare their lives... for now.

But he knew if Arela and Serana were here they would dare break this tense atmosphere. Yes, their willingness to challenge his authority was frustrating... But he was formulating a plan to conquer their rebellious attitude.

Serana and Arela had been incessantly getting under his skin. Before their departure, their whispering and hushed talking in the halls of his castle were maddening. Whenever Harkon had been near, they had shut down their conversation and he was certain their words were nefarious in nature.

But Harkon would not allow it. Great generals often implemented the strategy of divide and conquer, and he was going to make sure those two would be unable to plot against him. Together, those two were a formidable alliance, but separated, they could be controlled.

Harkon let out a sigh. It had been a few days since anything had happened. Arela and Serana had not returned with his Moth Priest yet, and Harkon could feel impatience growing in his very bones. _By Molag Bal's name, how long must they take?!_

Arela and his daughter weren't incompetent, so a small task of this magnitude shouldn't take this long. It wasn't as if he'd asked them to try and destroy the Dawnguard.

Harkon started twisting his amethyst wedding ring around his finger. It was a nervous habit he had fallen into hundreds of years ago, and was his method to keep his mind off all this damnable waiting.

For the first time since being wed, Harkon took off his wedding ring to examine it.

The ring itself had been a gift from Valerica, but now all it served as a painful plague of memories, memories best left buried. Harkon soaked in its details; from the abundance of scratches, to the silvery metal that had dulled from years of use. Harkon felt bitter rage rise in his throat, and for a moment, he was tempted to throw the ring across the dining hall, but he wouldn't break his self control. Scoffing at his marriage, Harkon realized he hadn't seen Valerica in a few thousand years. _This was quite a strong marriage_, he jeered in his mind.

Valerica had fought him from the moment Molag Bal had entered their relationship, and things had only worsened once he discovered the prophecy – the most prominent discovery for vampire kind.

She never saw the potential a prophecy such as this one could hold. Blocking the sun could let the vampires conquer Nirn, and once again he would be a king, but this time he would be king of all Tamriel.

Scanning the dining hall, Harkon watched all the members shift uncomfortably. He was amused; they all realized they weren't supposed to speak, unless he spoke to them. But of course, something had to break the silence.

A loud bang echoed through the dining hall, indicating a new visitor. Harkon hoped it was Arela returning with the Moth Priest. He could hardly express his desire to discover the knowledge locked away in Serana's Elder Scroll. Knowledge that could help him achieve his goal of blotting out the sun.

Harkon got to his feet to receive a better view of the small entrance hall.

But felt a pang of slight frustration and disappointment when he saw who actually appeared at the balcony – Celta.

Celta was one of his longest lasting and most loyal court members. She was very soft spoken and reserved. But over time Harkon had observed she always avoided the court politics; that was probably the reason she was still alive.

He watched as she elegantly made her way down the stairs. She pushed away silvery locks of hair from her dull red eyes, her eyes were very different as well. Instead of a different hue of blood red, Celta's eyes were a dusty red, almost pink in color.

She was clad in black traditional vampiric grabs, which clashed with her white silvery hair.

Celta made her way onto the court floor and stopped before him. Instantly, her eyes rested on the floor once she saw Harkon watching her.

"My Lord, I have the Ancient Ring of Molag Bal, you desired." She quietly pulled out the trinket, and Harkon leaned forward.

"The Ring of Erudite." He instinctually swiped the ring out of Celta's hand to examine it. He had refused to believe this ring existed, only because Molag Bal gifted this to some of his most loyal followers. And who would be a better candidate than himself for a ring such as this one? He was loyal to the Prince of Domination; it was an insult to think he had not been gifted with a ring of such stature.

"Ah, finally. I have one of these rings. You know, I _almost_ didn't believe they existed." Harkon paused to give Celta an inquisitive look. "Who tasked you with this?"

Celta was still fixated on her classic black vampiric boots. She shyly looked up at him. "Garan did. He said I could keep the ring, b-but I thought I would give it to you. You probably need it more than I do."

"Such loyalty. Your thought and obedience pleases me." The Lord tried to keep his voice from sounding condescending, but he couldn't.

Harkon watched Celta fight a smile. "I think of you more than you would believe..." Celta took his hand and planted a lingering kiss on top of it. The type of kiss a person would give to a suitor. He felt their eyes connect, and for a second Harkon wondered why he almost never paid attention to this girl.

But when Celta turned away from him and took a spot next to Garan, Harkon suddenly remembered. She had very little value to him, with no gift from Molag Bal, and very little skill in fighting; she proved to be a small asset.

And Harkon cared only for large assets. Nothing less than a powerful asset, and that was exactly what Arela was to him...

* * *

Another two tantalizing days had passed since Celta's return to Castle Volkihar. Harkon had become increasingly frustrated with this waiting game, so he had retreated to his room once more.

He only desired peace and silence to reveal in his thoughts, and plans for his future after he had completed the prophecy.

There was a small knock on his door, which broke his pensive thoughts.

"You may enter." Harkon found his voice expressing curiosity.

Garan entered, with Celta close behind him.

"She will return today, my Lord," Garan stated, without giving Harkon a chance to ask what the matter was. "I had a vision. My gift has finally revealed some more of Serana and Arela. They will be back today."

"Wait... Lady Serana is back?" Celta sounded confused. Strange; Celta was usually too nervous to actually speak, most of the time. "But she's been gone for so long..."

Harkon waved his hand to cut her off. "Ah, yes, Serana returned, with the assistance of two vampire hunters, a brother and sister. The sister, Arela, has joined our ranks, and she has been quite an asset to our court. She's quite a sly one, trying to disguise her true power from me... But her blood gave away many secrets to me..."

The puzzlement that appeared on Celta's face was well received. She would figure out this little puzzle on her own, Harkon knew. All she had to do was interrogate some of the lower members for information.

"Now, Celta, you are dismissed," the Lord stated curtly. "Garan and I have more pressing issues to discuss."

Celta gave him a bashful bow, but her eyes were still fixated on him. Harkon could tell she was going to try and sate her desire for knowledge in interrogating the new court member. Then she abruptly left without another word.

Finally, Harkon could focus in the task at hand. "Please sit, Garan. We have much to discuss."

The Dark Elf took a seat next to him, and ran one hand through his thick red beard. For once, he appeared exhausted, as though he'd been deprived of any type of relaxation.

Garan had been on this court as long as Harkon could remember. He had always been loyal, and his gift of insight was invaluable.

Harkon tried to keep his tone even. "Have you acquired more knowledge through your visions, Garan?"

"Yes, I have. I've had many visions as of late, and it has prevented me from getting one good day of sleep." Garan released an exasperated sigh.

"What do these visions entail? Do they involve the prophecy?" Harkon gripped the arm of his throne tightly; any information on the prophecy was essential.

"Yes and no." Garan massaged his temples.

"Well, indulge me with the details," Harkon commanded, unable to keep a certain sharpness out of his tone.

Garan cleared his throat. "I keep seeing a blind old scholar," he began. "He is a slave to a person with a strong will. But there is another man. He is clad in brown,thick leather, quick, agile and sneaky. He looks like a Breton from his height, and all I can see are his bright blue eyes... his name is...Kinric, no, maybe it was Cynric. Yes, I think it was Cynric." Garan shrugged. "I don't know who he is, but he is a corrupter of power and people. I think it involves you, my Lord."

"A corrupter? A man who is corrupting my members or a man that is cutting off my power?" Harkon asked intently.

"Both, I think. It's hard for me to tell. I only get strong waves of emotion in these visions. I don't get a story or anything told specifically, it's just my speculations."

Harkon frowned. "I promise you, Garan, I will find this man Cynric, and when I do... Well, he will dearly regret crossing paths with me."

Whoever this Breton man was, Harkon would make him pay. Anyone that ever challenged him always suffered the ultimate price.

But Garan's voice shattered the Lord's plans for revenge.

"That isn't the end. I keep seeing two figures entering the dining hall; I can't tell who they are. But I can sense they wish to harm you, my Lord. The visions always ends the same, with... your death," Garan confessed weakly. It was obvious from his fidgeting that he was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"That's impossible!" Harkon exclaimed. "I've been alive for thousands of years, I will not die now! Not when I'm so close to completing this prophecy, your visions must be incorrect!" He slammed his fist on his throne after his exclamation, anger coursing through him. _How could this be possible?!_

Garan scoffed. "Are my visions ever wrong? They may be cryptic, but they are never incorrect. I'm just not quite sure what to make of this. But it could be a vision of the far off future."

"No!" snapped Harkon. "Men like me don't simply die. We endure, we conquer, we remain powerful, we are eternal." Harkon's gaze darkened; he was one of the oldest men on Tamriel, perhaps the oldest. He wasn't going to die. No, not now, not when the prophecy was finally within reach. No, he was going to live, no matter the cost.

"Well," Garan continued warily, "the future is malleable, it isn't rigid. Often my visions change, or they are inaccurate. But never fully wrong. I doubt you are actually going to die, My Lord."

Harkon felt his brow furrowing. Perhaps Garan was right, and everything would change, just one event could change the whole future.

"This... wasn't the news I was expecting, but it's better to know what lies ahead, rather than nothing at all. You're dismissed, Garan."

Garan opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it. He got up and gave Harkon a curt bow. "As you wish, my Lord. But let me give you an important piece of advice. Do not stew too long over the future, for a gift like mine can drive a man insane."

"I will do as I please, Garan," Lord Harkon replied coldly.

_How could he just overlook this information? _The possibility of death, a 'corrupter of power', and the two unknown figures... Harkon knew he would figure out this mystery. It was only a matter of time before the truth would revel itself to him...

* * *

It was around midnight when the doors finally opened in the dining hall for the first time since Celta's return.

Harkon predicted it was Arela and Serana's return. It was well overdue, and he could hardly control his impatience anymore. If this wasn't them, Harkon contemplated ripping off Modhna's head just to quell his rising anxiety.

All the members of his court were assembling at the sound of the noise. Their inquiry was getting the better of them, and Harkon was thoroughly curious of these newcomers.

In the dull candle light that illuminated the balcony, a man stepped forward; an old, wary-looking scholar, Harkon gathered from his attire. He marveled at the court before him.

"Dexion, get behind me." Harkon heard Serana's voice ring out across the hall. _So, my daughter finally returns, hopefully with her Elder Scroll and the Moth Priest._

"I'd do what she says." A weak and raspy voice perked the Lord's attention. It was Arela's; he knew it well enough from their conversations.

That was when Serana appeared on the entrance hall that overlooked the court floor. She was covered in blood, and hanging onto her shoulder limply was Arela.

Thinly, Harkon smiled.

"Well, look who has finally returned. I was beginning to believe you wouldn't," Harkon mocked them as Serana slowly made her way down the stairs, helping Arela at each step.

"We brought you the Moth Priest," Serana said coldly, and said something else.

But the Lord ignored the snide comment his daughter had just directed at him. His vision was fixated on the figure that was desperately clinging to Serana, as if her life depended on it.

Harkon noticed a rip in the dark midnight black armour that Arela was always dressed in. On further examination Harkon noticed it was a wound, and its placement was right above Arela's heart.

"What do we have here?" said Lord Harkon wonderingly. "Were the Dawnguard too challenging for a minion of the night?"

The figured stirred at the sound of his voice. Arela looked up at Harkon; a shadow was cast across her face, and for a second Harkon swore he saw a dark and dangerous glint that gleamed in her eyes. But as quickly as it appear it must have receded, for the Lord contemplated if he had imagined the look.

"This wasn't done by the hand of a Dawnguard member," Arela wheezed. "According to Serana, it was an assassin - and a Dark Brotherhood one at that."

Harkon stiffened. _Could this be the trouble Garan's visions alluded to? _No. Assassins, braving the turbulent and powerful Sea of Ghosts, then sneaking around a castle of vampires, just for one target? No, that would be idiotic.

"You have quite a large amount of endurance than appears, Dragonborn," the Lord noted. "Should I take that as a challenge?"

"No..." Arela went into a fit of violent coughs that racked her body.

"Once the Moth Priest has read the scroll, we'll have Garan take a look at that nasty wound of yours." Harkon heard Serana whisper to her companion.

The only response Arela gave was a weak nod, but she turned her attention back to Harkon. "I made the Moth Priest my thrall," she explained. "The Dawnguard were protecting him. It seems they defeated your traitorous member; Malkus, if I recall correctly. He was building an army against you."

Harkon rolled his eyes. "I knew of his disloyal intentions... but an army, you say?" He shook his head. "How foolish of him. We both know a band of inexperienced, weak-blooded vampires would have stood no chance again real masters of the blood. But there's more urgent information to unveil, so let us waste no time. Order your thrall to read the Scroll."

Arela nodded, and with Serana's assistance, carefully made her way over to the Moth Priest.

The Lord watched, unable to drag his eyes off the Dragonborn. _She must be strong if she can survive an assassination. _Not even Harkon had ever had an issue of assassins, which was surprising since he was a former king.

Tapping his foot, the Lord was hardly able to suppress his desire to gain the knowledge locked away in the Scroll.

Finally after minutes of muttering between Arela and the scholar, the man Dexion spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Of course, master.

"Now, if everyone will please be quiet, I must concentrate." The Priest strained his voice to speak over the jittery court members.

An eerie silence fell over the room, and was only kept quiet, because Harkon would kill anyone that disturbed the peace. The anticipation was killing him inside. _Roughly four thousand years of waiting has finally come to an end. _He watched as the Priest opened the Scroll, and his eyes began to search the ancient parchment.

"I see... a vision before me, an image of a great bow. I know this weapon! It is Auriel's Bow!" Dexion had astonishment in his voice. "Now a voice whispers, saying 'Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise. In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one.'" He paused. "The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort... But wait, there is more here." Dexion took a small pause; his face was tight, and his teeth were clenched as if he were in pain.

"The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other scrolls... Yes, I see them now... One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood." Dexion began a sway a bit, so Arela and Serana grabbed his arms to keep him upright.

"My vision darkens, and I see no more," Dexion concluded, his voice growing fainter. "To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls."

_That was it? Years and years of waiting for that?! _Clenching his fists, Harkon barely controlled his rage.

Arela and Serana slowly made their way back over to him.

"Was it everything you were expecting?" Arela asked.

"That was... Not as useful as I would have liked..." Harkon forced away the impatience enough to grudgingly say, "Even so, you did well."

"So, do know you where the other Scroll is?" Arela inquired.

Harkon felt himself falling back into old and sore memories. "My traitor wife stole one of them away and then disappeared. As for the other, the last, that I heard was lost in the bowels of a Dwemer ruin..." He smirked at Arela, "It seems our work is not yet done. But I have waited this long, and we are so very close now. I can wait a little bit longer." _For now._

"I have the other one..." Arela confessed. "The one from the ruin, from Blackreach. I needed it to defeat Alduin the World Eater."

"One step ahead, I see..." Harkon muttered. _How this girl has one of the Elder Scrolls is beyond comprehension, but she seems to have quite a bit of power..._

He then waved his hand to dismiss the court. No one moved. Everyone was plastered to their seat contemplating what this prophecy might mean to them.

Serana pulled Arela closer to her. "We should go to my room, and get that wound of your treated."

"Yes, let's go." Arela said, as they bypassed him, leaving Lord Harkon standing in the center of the dining hall in bitterness, anger and the tiniest pang of jealousy.

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**[A/N]: So, what did you guys think of this chapter? Reviews are love, so please leave me some of your thoughts about this chapter. :)**


	22. She's Leaving Home

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I'm very excited to release this chapter, even if there's quite a bit of dialog between Arela and Serana. Still, I hope you enjoy this new installment! Also, a small detail, this chapter is named after a Beatles song, _She's Leaving Home_, which is from my favorite Beatles' album, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band!  
**

**Again, thank you ShoutFinder, if you guys haven't checked out her new fic _Torn_, I implore that you do so!  
**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scroll Series that is Bethseda's gig not mine, I'm just giving them the credit they deserve. But Arela, Enden, and Celta are my characters and I call all rights to them.**

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_**~The Beatles, She's Leaving Home**_

_**She (We never thought of ourselves)  
Is leaving (Never a thought for ourselves)  
Home (We struggled hard all our lives to get by)  
She's leaving home after living alone  
For so many years (Bye bye)**_

* * *

"Well, I did my best," stated Garan in frustration. "Your body seems to be quite resistant to my grand healing spell." He gave a short, impatient sigh. "It might have something to do with the large amount of scars you've acquired on your left shoulder." He gently guided Arela's arm into a sling.

Arela gritted her teeth, as a feeling of sheer pain shot up her arm. The realization dawned on her that Garan must be making reference to the spot where Karliah's arrow had pierced her shoulder, which was the same spot Mercer's sword had nearly stabbed her heart.

"Well, that's unfortunate, I guess," Serana frowned. "Are you sure there isn't anything else that might work?"

"The wound is too severe for healing, as I just discovered, and I doubt any healing potions will work, if magic didn't. But the wound is healing much faster than normal, which is good. A wound like this would normally take months to heal. But from the looks of it, you'll be fine in a week." Garan paused to clear his throat. "How that wound didn't kill you is well beyond my comprehension."

Serana shot Arela a glance, one that was demanding an explanation to Garan's observation. Arela shifted uncomfortably under Serana's intense gaze; she knew Serana wasn't going to let that topic drop just yet.

Garan got up from his chair next to Arela.

"Just keep your arm in that sling for a day or two. That should do the trick. But don't even think about swing that sword of yours or using that elegant bow for at least a week. I don't want to worry about the wound reopening. "

"Thank you, Garan," Arela smiled. "You've always been helpful."

Garan snorted. "No need to thank me. I wasn't able to do anything." And that was the last comment from him before he left.

Serana urgently closed the door behind him. "Finally, peace and privacy." She took a seat at the small table centered in the middle of her room.

Arela let out an exhausted sigh. Everything that had happened in the last few days had her dead tired. It had been days since she had gotten a decent night of sleep or even any food... Her throat was burning intensely now. Every second she felt she was getting closer and closer to losing her sanity to an unquenchable blood lust. "I just realized how thirsty I am..." she muttered.

Serana chuckled. "I'm one step ahead of you." Serana pushed a goblet full of blood across the table to her. "I figured after trying to eat your brother you might be hungry."

"Thanks, Serana," Arela said solemnly as she took the goblet in her only functioning hand and gulped it down.

The effect of feeding was almost instantaneous; Arela could feel the blood soaking into her bones and rejuvenating her body.

It felt like a long time since Arela had been so relaxed; she leaned back in her chair, and stretched her sore and tired legs. Her body was hurting in almost every spot imaginable.

This whole Moth Priest business had sucked the energy straight from her body, and obviously having a close shave with death hadn't helped. _So this is what death feels like; pain and torture, there is nothing quiet and peaceful or glamorous about it._

Arela had been lost in her pensive thoughts with Akatosh's words when Serana broke the peaceful silence.

"Ok, I need to know what happened, Arela. You... you were dead, and then... you...you just came to life!" She slowly shook her head. "I want the truth. Things like that don't happen for just no reason."

"About that. Where to begin..." Arela tried to organize her thoughts, and she debated how was the best way to go about telling Serana of her experiences.

"How about you start at the beginning?" Serana suggested dryly. "You're not getting out of telling me the truth, Arela."

Arela was a little taken aback from Serana's blunt comment. "Fine. Well, this might sound crazy but, Akatosh visited me. It turns out I was trapped in a land called Pass. It's a land between life and death, and that was the only reason he could contact me."

Serana's jaw dropped a little bit. "A God... forget that, the _deity_ of all the Gods... visited you..."

"Yes, the King of Gods visited me. Anyway, Akatosh told me I had one last goal on Nirn, to protect the sun. He tasked me with stopping your father. It seems like he really is set on a death-bound path... I'm sorry, Serana, I truly am."

Serana looked down at her feet, as if she was refusing to meet Arela's pleading gaze. "I knew it would come to this. My father has taken this too far, and even the Gods realize what he plans to do is insane."

"Maybe Harkon would realize his goal to block out the sun is hopeless if we talk to him. Though the chance is extremely bleak, it's still worth a chance. Maybe he would reconsider if he knew the god had cursed him," Arela suggested.

Serana looked up and gave Arela a blank look, before her expression shifted to a look of surprise. "Oh... I thought you were joking."

"It was just an idea," Arela said, defensively.

"And I thought my father was the delusional one." Serana sighed. "Arela, if my father's been determined to complete this prophecy for a few thousand years, do you actually believe he would change his mind now? Especially when he's the closest he's ever been to achieving his goal?"

"I... Well it was an idea!" Arela snapped. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

Serana relented and put her face into her hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound quite rude. It's just the stress, my father is just so hard to deal with."

There was an awkward pause before Arela decided to continue on her story about Akatosh's will.

"Your father isn't the only one I'm tasked with stopping. There was another man, named Vyruthr; he's the one that created the prophecy. The very prophecy your father's obsessed with."

"So, this man Vyruthr created the 'Tyranny of the Sun' prophecy, which has been responsible for the destruction of my family?" Serana whispered.

Arela took in a deep breath; there was no better way to put it. Vyruthr had essentially caused said destruction. "Yes... I guess so."

Serana jolted up from her chair, and viciously slammed her fist on the table, as though to exemplify her rage. "When I get my hands on him, I will literally rip him to pieces! He has ripped apart my family; let him taste his own medicine!" Serana's eyes were feverishly bright. "He caused my father to drive himself over the edge, all in the name of some damn deranged dream he has for the future of Nirn..."

"Relax, Serana," warned Arela, but her voice softened. "There isn't anything we can do about it. I have a feeling we'll find this guy, Vyruthr, but all in good time, usually things unravel. All we need to do is be patient. Plus, with the information Dexion told us from the Elder Scroll, we have a ton of information that needs to be unraveled." It seemed to work, because Serana sat back down.

But Arela could still feel restless anger floating in the air. "I know, it's still so frustrating. Patience is one of my least skilled virtues," Serana fumed.

She let out another disheartened sigh. "Anyway, so what are we going to do about finding the Elder Scroll? Mother has it, but honestly, I have no idea where she is. It's surprising Father hasn't found her by now, and he's had all this time, too."

Arela sat there for a second contemplating Serana's observation. If she was Serana's mother and was confined to this castle, there was only one logical explanation to where she would hide it, right?

"Well, obviously your mother's smart, or Harkon would have found her a long time ago. Harkon is probably looking too hard. I'm betting it's right here in the castle," Arela suggested.

There was a thoughtful pause. Then: "Wait! That actually makes sense!" Serana exclaimed enthusiastically. "Mother had an alchemical garden in the castle courtyard. She spent quite a bit of time in there, especially after her and Father had fights, it was her haven."

Arela smiled; it felt like an eternity since she had seen Serana glad about something. Sometimes she seemed all 'doom and gloom', but there were those rare moments where Serana would break away and be almost human.

"So when do you want to leave to go looking for this Elder Scroll?"

"Oh, well I was thinking about getting the Elder Scroll myself. You're in no condition to go fighting, by the time you are fully healed I could already have the scroll and be back."

Shock was the first emotion Arela felt as Serana's response soaked into her brain. Was Serana actually contemplating leaving her here, at Castle Volkihar, by herself... Arela only saw it as a recipe for disaster.

"You're joking, right, Serana?"

"No, it would only save us time. You rest up, get the other Elder Scroll. I find my mother with her Elder Scroll and then we have the Moth Priest read them, without my father knowing, and we will be one step closer to solving this prophecy – our way." Serana said this matter-of-factly as though she had planned this out long before the moment had come and gone.

Arela frowned. "I don't mind the plan, except for the fact... that you're leave me here by myself!" She felt waves of rage and panic wash over her uncontrollably. "They'll kill me, and you can't leave me here with your father roaming about, he's raving mad!"

How could Serana even think of leaving her here? It was pure insanity in this castle. Arela didn't even want to think about being here alone.

"Arela, as long as you stay away from everyone you should be fine, and especially stay away from my father." Serana shifted uncomfortably for a second.

"Do you remember me telling you about a Blood Bond when you were first captured?" Serana inquired.

The words 'Blood Bond' rang in Arela's memory, and as always the word 'Blood' often alluded to something quite bad. "Faintly, it has something to do with being turned, that much I do remember."

"Yes, and no. When a vampire bites a mortal they enthrall them, like you did to Dexion. You made him your slave that wishes to please you at all times."

Arela winced. She hated the word 'slave'; it was foul and to Arela, Dexion was not a slave. He was helping them stop Harkon and protect the sun, even if it wasn't his choice. They were still fighting for a noble cause.

Serana continued in her explanation. "When you were turned, without even knowing you created a Blood Bond with my father. The scary fact is when my father turned you, he gave up some of his pure vampiric blood to you. So, for as long as you live, my father's blood will run through your veins." Arela had watched as Serana's expression and tone slowly had become slightly more grim with every word.

Arela felt as if she was numb; she couldn't think, or more, she wouldn't allow herself to think. The idea of Harkon's blood running through her veins was... well, vile and every other variation of the word. The thought itself made involuntary shivers run down her spine.

"Blood Bonds are powerful magic; magic so ancient and rare, because only a Pure Blooded Vampire can create a Blood Bond." Serana gave Arela a sad frown. "I don't know much about Blood Bonds, mostly because they are so rare, but I know they're strong. As strong as a bond you can make with a Daedra. Are... are you okay, Arela?"

Arela shook her head slightly. She was suddenly petrified; she couldn't make her legs or even her good arm move. They stubbornly stayed put, refusing to move an inch.

Her thoughts were scattered as she tried to decipher what Serana had told her. _She shared a bond with Harkon, and of course it had to be one of the strongest bonds that existed._

Her brain was yanking her through the endless scenarios, and all the scenarios ended with her being manipulated by Harkon like some weak minded bandit.

Finally, Arela felt her mind thawing from the suspension of the world around her. "I-I'm fine, it's just a lot to take in... I really had no idea..." Arela stuttered. "Is... Is there a cure?"

Serana's expression darkened. "I don't think so, but when I find my mother I will ask her. She studied Blood Bonds, mostly because she had a Blood Bond with every member on the court. She was the one that turned Vingalmo, Orthjolf, Garan, and Feran. Father never turned anyone, mostly because his blood was too powerful."

"Great, thanks for trying to scare me. You were really quite successful at it." Arela could hear her rising anxiety echoing in her words.

"Hey, don't worry," said Serana softly. "The bond itself has different effects on different people. From my brief study of Blood Bonds, some vampires have no bond, but for others it can be unbreakable. That's all I know about them really. But I'm sure you're fine." She took Arela's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I-I'm fine, I really don't feel attracted or attached to your father, so maybe I'm one of those vampires who isn't affected." Arela wanted to believe that she wasn't affected, but she could just tell this would be her one stroke of bad luck.

"Well, I have a theory about your Blood Bond, but I'm afraid you won't like it..." Serana said in a hushed tone, as if saying it quietly would soften the blow.

"Don't sugar-coat it. I can handle the truth," Arela said; she was surprised at how cold her voice sounded.

"I believe, because I share blood with my father, I've been interfering with his connection to you. It would make sense why we get along so well." Serana gave Arela a weak smile, which slightly exposed her fangs.

"I don't think that's why we get along. We've saved each other's lives, and watched each other's back. _That's_ why we're close." Arela felt a wave of happiness overcome her. It was good to have someone on Nirn she could trust.

"Yeah... but the Bond is subconscious. Often those afflicted with the Bond find themselves doing things, unusual things, and they don't understand why."

Arela laughed. "If you think our friendship is just me following some subconscious orders, you're a fool."

Serana smirked. "I believe you, but the Bond is strong, Arela. When I leave, I want you to stay as far away from my father as possible."

"Okay, I can manage that..." Arela looked down at her hand. The very hand Serana was tightly gripping on.

"I don't think you should go alone looking for an Elder Scroll. Maybe you should take someone with you?" Arela suggested.

Serana scoffed, "And who would I take with me? Some lousy court member, that would take the Scroll straight to my father?"

"No... Take Enden. It will keep him out of trouble." Arela said faintly. She wasn't sure how Serana would react to the idea, and judging from her expression she wasn't taking the idea kindly.

"Enden doesn't like me and I doubt we would work well together," Serana growled. "I mean, he was an absolute jerk to me when I was trying to help you."

Enden... of course he wouldn't put aside his hatred for vampire to cooperate with Serana. Sometimes he was unbelievably stubborn. But maybe it would be good experience for him to fight along side Serana. He might actually see the good in her, or at least he could be willing to overlook their difference at Arela's expense.

"I see it as a perfect opportunity for Enden to learn some cooperation skills. He's a good fighter and then I could feel better knowing at least someone's there to make sure you don't die," Arela pleaded.

Serana let out a reluctant sigh of agreement. "Okay, fine, I'll take Enden with me. But only because _you_ asked." This time Serana gave her a genuine smile.

Arela nodded, satisfied. "Good, I don't want you to go alone. But, where are you starting your search? Hopefully not in this part of the castle."

"No. There is a hidden alcove on the western half of the island; it should lead to the courtyard where my mother spent all her time. That's where I'm starting my search," Serana concluded.

Arela leaned back, and feebly adjusted her arm that was positioned in a sling. She always had hated slings; they were uncomfortable and made it virtually impossible to relax.

Her wound made itself known, as she felt searing shocks bolting around her shoulder and chest. Again, Arela gritted her teeth to cope with the pain, and this time her fangs dug into her bottom lip.

Serana got up, and slowly moved onto her mission of collected her things, "I'm going to leave soon. Maybe I can catch Enden as he returns to Solitude."

Arela frowned; she still didn't like the being at Castle Volkihar alone, but she'd suck it up. This was all in the name of stopping Harkon, and afterward she could try and bring some normality back to her life.

Later, she watched Serana pack, and with every item Arela witnessed Serana stuff in her bag, she couldn't help but feel more and more alone. Serana had always been there for her, and now... Now she was leaving.

Serana finally finished up her packing at turned around to talk to Arela, but it was obvious she picked up on her sad demeanor.

"Hey, don't be melancholy, I'll be back soon." Serana pulled her chair next to Arela.

Arela cast a downward glance at her pale hand. She could feel a lump building in her throat; she tried to gulp it down, but failed. Still she tried to force words out, but they came out slurred. "I'm just worried... I have such a bad feeling."

"Arela, look at me." Serana said firmly. When the order was carried out: "Nothing bad is going to happen. The worst of our bad luck is over. I promise, I'll only be gone a few days. Until then, take this."

Serana got up again, and meandered over to her night stand. She opened the drawer, and pulled out an amulet with the shape of a crescent moon on it. "This is an Amulet of the Moon-Treader. It brings you good luck. My mother gave it to me long ago; she told me Nocturnal herself blessed it. It will protect you if you're a true thief, like you always say you are."

Serana gave Arela a teasing smirk, as she gently placed the amulet on her neck. "Thank... Thank you, Serana. I'm a fond worshiper of Nocturnal; this gift truly means a lot to me."

Arela felt herself brimming with joy, it was always nice to have a little reminder of the Thieves Guild, Karliah, and her oath as a Nightingale.

But now she was beginning to feel homesick; she missed her thieving duties, and her friends back at the Guild. She had felt as if there had been a void was open in her chest for months. She hasn't stolen anything in ages, and now her hands were feeling idle. But Serana's words into her nostalgic thoughts.

"You really surprise me sometimes. I never figured you as a Daedra worshiper. Nords usually worship the Divines, don't they?"

"Normally, but when have I really been normal? Serana, you should know this by now. Still, thank you for the gift, I feel much safer now. It reminds me that Nocturnal is always watching over me." Arela shot Serana a cheeky grin, which earned her a chuckle from Serana.

"Well, I better be off. Don't worry too much while I'm gone, okay?" Serana helped Arela on to her feet, and in that moment Serana locked her in a tight hug.

Arela stifled back a groan of pain, as Serana crushed her injured shoulder in her bear-like embrace.

"I'm going to miss you. Stay safe, Arela. Remember I won't be here to pick you up off the ground this time."

"I promise, I'll be safe," Arela swore, as she broke away. "Just promise to bring Enden back in one piece."

"You've got yourself a deal." Serana chuckled, as she descended down the steps toward her doorway, but she halted before crossing the threshold. "Arela, I just wanted to tell you... Ah, never mind, maybe I'll tell you another time."

"You sure?" Arela questioned.

"Yeah. Bye, Arela, see you soon." Serana smiled one last time, before leaving Arela. After a tense minute passed, Arela heard the giant wooden doors in the entrance hall slam shut.

Arela desperately clenched on to her new amulet; now it was the only memorabilia she had to remember Serana. That, and the memories that were firmly ingrained in her head. Gulping, Arela got up and lay down on the bed, and tried to fall asleep.

But sleep evaded her, as Arela's fears started to emerge. Sadly, she came to the realization that it had only taken a few minutes of Serana's absence for her to already feel very, very alone, at Castle Volkihar.

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**[A/N]: ****So, what did you guys think of this chapter? Reviews are love, so please leave me some of your thoughts about this chapter. :)**  



	23. Talking to a Traitor

**[A/N]: Hey guys! I just wanted to say how excited I was last week when this story reached over 100 followers, and 300 comments. So, I just want to thank all those who have been supporting the story so far! But I'll stop jabbering and let you guys read. I've made you wait longer than usual for this chapter.  
**

**Also, this week I would like to give a special thanks to ShoutFinder, if it wasn't for her, this chapter probably wouldn't have been published. And please do check out her new fic _Torn,_ it's a brilliant and riveting story! I know you guys would love it, so I really do hope you check it out! :) **

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's property. But Arela, Celta and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

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_**~Blue October, Hate Me**_

_**Hate me today  
Hate me tomorrow  
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you  
Hate me in ways  
Yeah ways hard to swallow  
Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you**_

* * *

A cold breeze rippled through Dayspring Canyon - it was cold and bitter as it nipped against his skin, but Isran could feel this wind was heralding a change. A change in seasons, a change in temperature, and deep his bones, Isran sensed a change in this war against the vampire kind; a war that he felt was already hanging in the balance.

It had been three long weeks since anything had happened. The men and women trained day in and day out for action. But nothing was happening. It was as if the vampires had stopped their assaults purely to mess with his mind.

But this breeze told Isran change was afoot. He wasn't quite sure if it signaled something good; maybe it was playing with his hopes of a victory over the Volkihar Clan. For all he knew the wind was warning him of his preeminent defeat and destruction, by the hand of these twisted monsters of the night.

He couldn't be sure. But the one thing he was positive of was that this wind smelled of a shift in power; for good or for evil, for better or for worse, he couldn't be certain. But the one thing Isran could derive from this wind was: change was on its way.

The breeze swept right through him, ruffling his beard and making his bones ache from the cold.

Isran stood up and stretched his back, hoping to remove the nasty kink that was coiling in his spine, causing him immense pain. While stretching, Isran couldn't avert his eyes away from the sky. The stars were poking out through the dark blanket of night, acting as tiny portals to Aetherius. Flashes of the aurora twisted in the black inky sky, like a ribbon dancing in a light breeze, swirling with the ebbs and flows of the air.

The aurora was such a wondrous sight in the Rift, but Isran wasn't going to let it distract him, and fortunately, Isran was able to catch a Dawnguard member passing by.

"Durak." Isran barked, as the tall olive-skinned Orc passed.

Durak skidded to a halt at the commanding tone. "Yes, Isran, what do you need?" he responded in a husky, but polite tone.

"I need someone to cover my watch. I have new defense plans to draw up tomorrow, and I haven't slept in at least a day," remarked Isran; he was surprised by how growly his tone appeared.

The only response Isran received was a curt nod from the Orc, who seemed less than pleased to take his shift.

Isran climbed down from his position on the wooden spiked wall; he was grateful to finally be done with watch and finally resume his duty as the leader of the Dawnguard.

Isran had wanted to make some new defense plans with Gunmar, Sorine and Celann, and lately he had been neglecting his daily duties because of the lack of manpower. Ever since Enden and Vanik's squad had left to track one particular vampire group, there had been a significant lack of members, so everyone was picking up the slack.

Isran slowly made his way back up to the massive Fort that towered and rose up trying to touch the inky black sky. It was sometimes hard to believe that he had built this fort to its former glory.

The Vampire Hunter pushed open the large wooden doors and was greeted with at least seven new whelps. Farmers, from the look of it. Their greasy complexion and ragged clothes just said it.

Noticing Gunmar towering over the whelps, Isran approached the bulky Nord. "What's going on?"

"We've gained some new members, it seems. I thought you knew about them?" Gunmar replied in his heavy Nord accent. "It seems word had finally spread about our cause."

"They just look like a group of farm boys and girls. They aren't vampire hunters. They have to be trained, because I don't want their blood on my hands."

"Who's going to train them? I have to work the forge, I don't have time to train whelps," Gunmar complained.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Isran began to massage his temple to thwart a growing headache. "Well, you take a few whelps and I can take the rest. I guess it's never too early to learn how to use a crossbow."

Gunmar gave him a weak nod. "Of course, old friend."

The Redguard turned to a group of muddy looking farmer boys, who had dirt and Gods know what other muck rubbed on their clothes and face. "Okay, whelps, today you're going to learn to use a crossbow," Isran bellowed, snapping them into instant, obedient silence.

* * *

Hours had passed, and finally it seemed like most of the boys had proven they knew how to use a crossbow correctly. They were consistently able to hit the boxes that were intended to be targets.

But it was quite blatant these farm boys weren't cut out to be _real _vampire hunters. They lacked the focus and seriousness that killing vampires required.

Isran had taken a seat on the edge of the bricks that acted as the trim for the large stone walls.

The hall was silent, except for the firing of bolts and the jittery talking from the obnoxious farm boys. Their talking was trying Isran's patience. He only desired some moments of silence; he was weary from not sleeping a few days. It was as if he was hallucinating. Things started move awkwardly and time seemed to blur.

But the tranquil environment was interrupted once again, as Enden burst through the thick wooden, heavy doors that led into the entrance hall.

_Great, being overdramatic as always. _Isran couldn't help but roll his eyes; of course Enden had to be extremely dramatic in his entrance. He was such a histrionic.

Isran slowly got up to greet Enden.

But the Vampire Hunter couldn't draw his eyes away from the shambled and exhausted-looking man. His appearance was a ragged mess; his armour was ripped in certain spots. Blood was splashed and dabbed on to his dusty brown chainmail. His face looked daunting and ghostly, as if it lacked any healthy color. He had faint dark circles that encompassed around his eyes, creating the illusion of a phantom.

Isran wasn't quite sure if Enden was sick or maybe just tired, but his appearance was unusual and almost disturbing.

"Isran!" Enden exclaimed, his voice sounding shrill in the Dawnguard Leader's ears. He wasn't quite sure what emotion Enden had been trying to portray, for his voice had lacked any sense of tone.

The hall itself was relatively quiet, with only a few new hunters Isran was training. So Enden's obnoxious entrance was almost an annoyance, as it had disturb the tranquil peace that had engulfed Fort Dawnguard tonight.

Enden didn't hesitate to make the first move. He started on a stormy pace toward Isran; his Dawnguard leather boots were making a distinct noise as he stepped across the stone floor.

Isran let a frown fall upon his face. He had expected Enden to return with this full squad, but it seemed he was returning alone, and this was a bad sign. "Boy, where are the other member of your squad? I thought you went with Vanik?"

But Enden didn't reply, he just kept on his advance toward him. Isran was sure Enden would stop once he was within talking range, but he never slowed down; on the contrary, Isran was sure his pace only quickened.

"Did you hear what I asked you, Enden?" Isran barked. But he never got a reply.

Enden stopped right in front of Isran, and for the first time, the Redguard noticed how tall Enden was. The man must have been at least five inches taller. But his gaze was wrathful, and his stare was cold.

"You lying son of a _skeever!_" Enden shouted at him, and before Isran could react, Enden did the unthinkable.

Enden balled his fist and slammed it straight into the bridge of Isran's nose. Isran heard and felt the sickening crack that was emitted from face, and in that instant he was sure his nose was broken.

The brute force was enough for Isran to grunt in pain. It was as if a troll had punched him in the face. His feet left the ground and launched from the safety of the floor. He flew back a few feet before landing squarely on his back. His head smashed down upon the stone floor, and felt his skull rebound against the solid stone.

"You lying, murderous bastard!" Enden's shout filled Isran's ringing head. "You lied to me about Arela; she wasn't dead! You told me you found her body! You assured me she wasn't alive! But I found her at Forebear's Hideout and she was a _vampire!_"

Isran's head was swimming in pain as he picked himself up. He tried to form his own words, but nothing came to him. Nothing at all. It was true he hadn't told Enden the truth, but it was only because he had wanted to avoid Enden from feeling regret and guilt.

Some of the new members were staring at Enden in sheer awe, as if they had just seen a Daedric Prince appear before their eyes. But after a few seconds of childish gawking, the draugr-brained idiots finally snapped into action by grabbing hold of Enden and holding him back before Enden could land another punch on him.

Isran covered his nose as blood began to pour out like a faucet. Within seconds his face was covered in trail and streaks of thick crimson blood. His blood was running into his mouth, leaving a coppery tang on his taste buds.

Delicately Isran tried to cover his nose, but it was impossible to stop the torrents of blood from gush onto his armour.

"You idiot! WHAT IN STENDARR'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?" Isran screamed in pure and unadulterated rage. He was tempted to yell more, but blood had spilled into his mouth, upon his vicious shouting.

Isran witnessed Enden's struggling, as the new members restrained him from trying to land another assault on the Dawnguard leader's face. He had to admit, for once the whelps were making themselves useful. But Enden was not to be deterred by mere physical forces alone, and he continued to shout.

"I know what you did, Isran!" he bellowed, and Isran suddenly felt a wave of fear settle over him. "You sent assassins to kill Arela! _Assassins! From the Dark Brotherhood!_ You knew she was alive!" Finally one of the whelps covered Enden's mouth, and it was honestly a Godssend to the Vampire Hunter's ears.

Gunmar and Celann came running into the entrance hall.

"What's going on?" Gunmar asked. "We heard all the screa..." His voice died as he saw Enden, being restrained by the new recruits, and Isran, sitting up on the floor with his face smeared with red. He looked confused.

Enden's emotional and rash behavior was well known through Fort Dawnguard, so Gunmar and Celann weren't too surprised, and Isran should have expected Enden to do something idiotic eventually.

With a slightly distorted voice, Isran said as calmly and as venemously as he could manage, "Enden and I are going to have a discussion in my quarters... but make sure he can't throw any more punches." He tried his best to keep blood from running in his mouth, but was unsuccessful.

"Got it," Celann replied, and without another word, he and Gunmar grabbed Enden by the arms and dragged him up the winding flight of steps that led to the said room.

"This isn't over! You're going to pay for your lies!" Enden shouted, as Celann and Gunmar dragged him up the steps. Finally he was gone and the entrance hall quietened down.

* * *

"Damn dramatic half-wit," Isran growled, as he wandered through the dining hall and over towards the alchemy nook, hoping to find a healing potion, or at least something he could use to plug up his bloody and broken nose.

Sorine finally stumbled in. It was obvious she had been asleep throughout the whole affair as she let out one big yawn. But once she took one look at the Dawnguard Leader's face she seemed to wake up a bit quicker.

"What the hell happened to your face, Isran?" Sorine asked, as she walked over to Isran and gently prodded at his broken nose.

Isran flinched. "Enden... Stop that," he groaned, as Sorine tried to straighten his nose.

Sorine stifled a laugh. "He got the better of you, or what?" She jeered.

"No, he's a damn lunatic, ranting on about assassins trying to kill his sister."

Sorine's voice dropped an octave and her tone became serious. "We all know you lied to him, Isran. Celann told Gunmar and I the truth, that Arela is a vampire. You should have just been open with him. You probably could have avoided all this."

Sorine continued to wipe the blood off Isran's face, "I just wanted to avoid what happened to me," he grumbled, "But I obviously failed..."

Sorine gave him a wry smile. "I know you can fix this, Isran. Just go talk to Enden."

Isran scoffed, "That boy has lost his mind. You can't reason with madmen."

"You'll find a way, Isran. Enden's just emotional, so maybe you should try and show a little understanding. Maybe even try and open up... Hm?" Sorine flashed him another smile.

Isran shrugged. Maybe the only way to get to Enden was to fight fire with fire...

* * *

Enden struggled against the chair Celann and Gunmar had tied him to. That damn coward Isran was too afraid to face him! Obviously a punch was enough to make him turn and have his damn goons do the work for him.

It had been at least an hour since Enden had decided to return, and sitting in this chair was a little nerve racking, thought he wasn't afraid of Isran, he knew he could take him down if he had to. But he wanted to get back to Solitude in time to have Arela or Serana tell him what the Elder Scroll had said.

Finally Enden could hear Isran's footsteps as he ascended the flight of steps up toward his room.

"So, boy," Isran growled as he entered. "You decided to act rashly, and now you're going to pay the price." He sat down to face Enden.

The Dawnguard Leader was still a mess, Enden noted. Dried blood was still caked on his armour, and his nose appeared crooked and deformed. Someone had tried to straighten it, but they apparently didn't know anything about fixing a broken nose.

Enden could hardly control the rage that was tumbling over, as Isran played the victim. "You lied to me, and now I'm the one that has to pay for it?" Enden scoffed, as he let the irony drip from his words. "You confidently told me Arela was dead. You looked me in the eyes and swore that was the truth, and I believed you." His voice dropped to a hiss. " I thought you were an _honorable_ man, but I guess I was wrong."

Isran let out a dark chuckle. "You think I lied to you for fun, just for some cheap entertainment? I didn't tell you the truth because I knew you couldn't handle it, and because you weren't ready to deal with the regret."

"So telling me my sister was dead... that was your brilliant solution!" Enden spat. He hardly wanted to listen to another excuse Isran could come up with.

"Of course it wasn't. You have no idea what it's like to live with regret. Knowing it's your fault..." Isran trailed off a bit, before continuing in a milder tone. "I use to live in Hammerfell, right on Iliac Bay. My parents, my brother and I lived in a small fishing town, very remote. My family worried about pirates and bandits, more relevant threats, but I had no idea that a powerful vampire clans lived so close to my village."

Enden could feel the air become thicker as Isran dragged out the past; he could tell this story was only going to go downhill from here.

"One day I came home from working on the boats to find my parents dead, and our small home was covered in blood. I was distraught and overwhelmed, and when I couldn't find my brother, I almost lost it. I figured a wild animal must have claimed them, and so I tracked the monster to a cave not too far from my home."

"It was then when I found my brother, I couldn't believe my eyes when I discovered he was... well, you've already guessed, haven't you? Bitten by one of the members of the Lyrezi Clan, because the moment my brother saw me, he went invisible and disappeared, and the damage was done. I couldn't help but feel it was my fault, after it all happened. I was so ignorant to the vampires that lived around us, I should have been more prepared. I still blame all of this on myself, I should have known what I was up against..." Isran frowned. "I was just young and ignorant..."

Enden sat there, enthralled by Isran's tragic tale. He was surprised that Isran was even telling him this. It wasn't like him to ever open up to people.

"I returned home, and realized I had nothing left to come back to. So I buried my parents and decide to do something with my damn life. I joined the Vigil of Stendarr to seek my revenge on the vampire kind for what they did to my parents and my brother," Isran finished. "I didn't tell you the truth because regret is a hard emotion to live with..."

Enden's brow furrowed. He felt conflicted. He couldn't help but feel bad for Isran; he had tried to protect him from the painful truth. But Enden knew he had deserved to know the truth all along, not some damn lie that was a short term fix.

"You should have just told me the truth... I would have coped with it." Enden sighed. "But that still doesn't explain why you sent assassins from the Dark Brotherhood to kill her." He tried to keep his tone civil this time, but his self restraint was failing him.

If he wasn't mistaken, the old fear in Isran's eyes had returned. "What are you talking about?" he asked gruffly. "I would never affiliate myself with assassins. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Enough with the lies, Isran. Your name is on the contract. Untie me so I can show you."

Isran eyed him cautiously. "Why should I let you go? You're just reckless, and I don't trust you."

"I understand why, but I want to find out the truth. You have my word. I won't do anything rash."

There was a pause. "Fine, but if you give me any reason to doubt your word I won't hesitate to kill you," Isran uttered bluntly, as he cut the rope that restrained Enden.

Enden tentatively reached for the note in his knapsack that had been tossed on the floor. Isran watched his every move like a snake watched a mouse.

After a few moments of rummaging, Enden pulled the paper out and handed it to Isran with care.

Isran read it, and stiffened, his face paling. "I've... I've been framed! I... blame that damn bitch, Maven Black-Briar!" Isran thundered.

"Maven?" Enden frowned in confusion. "What the hell does she have to do with this?"

"This isn't the first time she's meddled in our affairs," Isran growled, proffering a second piece of parchment. "I already have a threatening letter from her. She informed me that I was responsible from the elimination of Arela. According to her, Arela being a vampire would hurt her business. How Arela would affect her business is beyond me. I just think that woman is bat-shit crazy."

Enden stared at it. "You do realize that's a forged note, right? This isn't even Maven Black-Briar's handwriting."

He watched Isran's expression change to one of shock. "What? Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure. I know because I used to run with the Thieves Guild, and almost everyone tried to forge her handwriting at one point in their thieving career. Plus I've seen a glimpse of her genuine handwriting before on an old contract. I know this isn't hers."

Isran grunted. "Well, that's a relief. I was sure that damn bitch was going to send some of her goons here to try and shut down the Dawnguard."

"Oh, if it that were the case, she would have given you a personal visit. That's just how Maven likes to conduct business. Especially since you're the leader of a powerful group."

Isran snorted. "If she would have showed her face, I would have told her off right there. I can't stand people that are full of themselves, especially since she doesn't do any of her own dirty work." Isran paused for a short time to rub his face. "Those damn Maven imposters asked me to hire assassins to kill Arela, boy. They even gave me a book on how to contact the Dark Brotherhood. I almost did just that to protect the Dawnguard from being destroyed, but Celann talked me out of it."

He let the weakest smile cross his face. "Celann had a certain fondness of your sister, I can't really understand it. He's quite protective of her, even if she is a vampire."

"It's because Arela is still good at heart, and Celann knows it, as do I. I might have overreacted when I found out the truth... but Arela is still the same person she was before. She hasn't allowed vampirism to change her."

There was an awkward pause before Isran spoke again. "So what happened to Vanik and the rest of your squad?"

Enden froze. _Shit... Arela killed Vanik! _He let out a cough. "Eh... we went to Forebear's Hideout and we were overrun. I killed the last few before I discovered I was the last one alive." It was a lie, though he didn't feel too guilty after Isran had lied to him.

"Ah, that's unfortunate... Vanik was a good soldier..." Isran said with light melancholy in his voice.

Enden scoffed. "He was an awful leader though. _I_ ended up drawing the plan of attack."

"Well, he was a good soldier nonetheless. He fought as a soldier for the Imperials before he join up with the Dawnguard. I met him in Solitude when I was first recruiting."

_Solitude..._Enden wondered why the name sparked alarm bells... he swore he had something to do there... "Wait! I have to go to Solitude!" Enden jolted out of his seat. "I have to meet Are-... I mean I have to meet someone there." Enden corrected himself. He didn't Isran to know about his meeting with Arela and Serana at Proudspire Manor, which could end badly.

"But we need help around the Fort," said Isran angrily as Enden packed up his knapsack.

"But this is very important. I have to go right now." Enden bolted out of Isran's room and down the stairs.

"You better be back soon, Enden, or else!" Isran roared after him, as he heard the front doors bang shut.

* * *

Solitude was silent, as Enden trotted down the old fashion cobblestone paths. The streets were dark and the only light came from dim oil lanterns just bright enough for him to find his way around.

This city was very unfamiliar to him. He was sure it was because he spent most of his time in Windhelm and the northern cities of Skyrim. Because Stormcloak soldiers weren't safe in the capital city, but since Enden was clad mostly in Dawnguard armour, he figured he was safe.

Finally, Proudspire was in view, Enden had never really like the house, with its intricate brick work and the sallow colored shingles lined on the roofs like dragon scales. It never felt quite like a home, just seemed like empty space.

Enden opened the door and silently crept in, not wishing to scare Jordis, Arela's housecarl, who was sleeping in the chair near the door. But inevitably she heard him, and jumped to her feet.

"Who's there?!" Jordis questioned in a dark tone. Enden stiffened as he heard the withdrawal of her sword, and knew she would attack any second.

"It's just me, Enden! Is everything alright?"

Jordis sheathed her blade, and settled back into her chair. "I'm not sure. Does my Thane know someone named Serana? She's been upstairs most of the day, waiting for you."

Enden fought down a scowl. "Yes, she knows Serana, as do I. I'll go speak with her." He trudged upstairs. He really didn't want to deal with Serana at the moment. He was exhausted, and keeping his eyes open had become a wearisome chore.

He spotted Serana poking around the bookshelf near Arela's room. "What are _you _doing here?" he asked spitefully, in means of greeting. "I thought you were with Arela."

"And I thought we agreed I was supposed to come here and tell you what the Elder Scroll said," Serana shot back with slight annoyance in her tone.

Enden sighed. "If you say so. Now what did the Scroll say?" He plopped himself down on Arela's bed, resisting the urge to fall back on it.

Serana turned around. "Turns out we need two more Elder Scrolls in order to get Auriel's Bow, and Auriel's Bow is the weapon we need to complete the prophecy. So Arela and I decided that you and I are going to find my mother," she explained.

"Why are we going to find your mother?" Enden inquired with a sharp tone. He was starting to get frustrated. All he wanted to do now was sleep.

Serana rolled her eyes. "Wake up, Enden. My mother has one of the Elder Scrolls that we need, and apparently Arela has the other one. That's why we agreed to split up."

Enden frowned. "Well, we can leave in the morning. Unlike you, I _need_ sleep. I can't even remember the last time I slept." He began to rip off his filthy boots and gauntlets. His armour was gross too, but he wasn't in the mood to remove it. Instead he just pulled back the blankets and crawled under the sheets and closed his eyes.

"_Really?_" Serana sighed irritably somewhere nearby. "We should leave _now_, not later."

"I need sleep! I'm not some night prowling monster," Enden snapped without opening his eyes. "I'm human, and we generally sleep at night, in case you didn't know."

He yelped as Serana threw the book she was holding at him. "Yeah, and if you remember, all vampires were once human," she snarled before slamming the door shut.

_Thank the_ Divines, Enden thought. _Finally peace and quiet. H_e hadn't slept in so long, not since before he had met up with Arela and Serana again.

He couldn't even believe that Arela had agreed to have him travel with Serana. He really didn't care for her, and now he was going to be stuck with her! This was just going to be a miserable time... a miserable time indeed...

* * *

**[A/N]: I hope you liked it! This chapter was tremendously difficult for me to write, so any feedback would be helpful. Thank you for stopping by! :D  
**


	24. I Play Soldier, You Play King

**[A/N]: Hey guys, sorry it's been such a long time, but I finally got around to updating. For awhile I'm going to be switching between perspectives. So I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's all about Arela. :)**

**This week I'd like to thank asqwerty3345 for checking over this chapter!**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series or Bethesda. I'm just giving them the credit they deserve, but Arela, Enden, and Celta are my characters.**

* * *

_**~Linkin Park, Burn It Down**_

_**You told me, "Yes"  
You held me high  
And I believed when you told that lie  
I played soldier, you played king  
And struck me down, when I kissed that ring  
You lost that right, to hold that crown  
I built you up, but you let me down  
So when you fall, I'll take my turn**_

* * *

Since Serana had left there had been very little to distract herself with, so Arela had taken up the hobby of reading.

Serana had a very minuscule library of books, most of her novels and stories consisting of vampires and vampirism. Arela didn't complain, reading anything was more satisfying than staring at the wall or looking after Serana's plants for hours. Plus the subject of her new state was quite enthralling. She had never been knowledgeable when it came to vampirism or it's history.

She learned Molag Bal bestowed vampirism upon a girl named Lamae Beolfag; the process in which she received it was... Gruesome. Forcefully thrown upon her, and her hunger for blood had caused the disease to spread.

But Lamae Beolfag wasn't responsible for the separate bloodlines that were scattered across Tamriel. Loyal followers would subjugate themselves to Molag Bal for the purest forms of vampirism, no strain was the same, because no ritual was the same either.

The rituals sounded foul, they involved so many intolerable acts like rape, blood sacrifices, killing of the unborn, or murdering thousands of innocent people. Just the thought of participating in any of those made Arela cringe.

Arela couldn't almost comprehend why anyone would undergo or inflict such torture on others for a disease that was rejected by society. But for those that had turned, it boiled to one simple answer, power.

Power, it was the only reason people would do insane acts, or even jeopardize their own life. Power did crazy things to the mind, and power simply turned pure people into the most venomous and vile of beings, and deep down Arela knew it was the only reason people like Harkon would ever do such things.

Slowly, it dawned upon Arela... _Harkon and Serana must have sacrificed themselves to Molag Bal to become pure vampires..._Arela felt an involuntary shiver slither down her spine. _Why would Serana partake in such violent and defiling activities?_

Serana wasn't power hungry, for the most part she was kind and caring. It just didn't add up, she despised power, it had slowly eroded away at family and she had made it obvious that power was her enemy. Arela decided she would ask Serana herself. Though she got the feeling Valerica and Harkon had simply forced her down this path.

Boredom was starting to set in and Arela tossed aside her book called, _Immortal Blood_. That story in particular had left Arela almost speechless. The author had explicitly talked about the Volkihar Clan.

The style in which the author referenced the Volkihar was as if the author knew Harkon and the whole court himself, _'paranoid and cruel'_. Arela had laughed, Harkon was definitely paranoid. He only trusted vampires in his favor, and it was almost impossible to remain favorable.

But to Arela's astonishment, the author claimed that the Volkihar could freeze their prey's blood, as well as reach through the ice without breaking it.

Freezing human's blood was definitely believable, and Arela was sure she had experienced it when Harkon had turned her. His breath had been colder than any wind Arela had felt in Winterhold.

Just the thought of Harkon sinking his fangs into her throat, caused Arela's neck to tingle and itch.

Shifting, Arela blamed the irritation on the most likely culprit - the sling - it was probably chafing her skin. It wasn't anything unusual, so far as she knew, slings often presented problems.

But every once and awhile, her skin would feel as though something was burrowed beneath it, trying desperately to break free of the constraints of her flesh.

Sighing, Arela ran her hand over her neck to try and soothe the aching, but she stopped dead when she felt deep groves dug into her skin. She didn't remember having any scars on her neck, so curiosity got the better of her. Making her way across the room, Arela looked into the small mirror sitting on Serana's desk.

Arela's own eyes instantly caught her attention - the crimson irises with orange flexes and the lightest tint of gold. They still seemed so unnatural to her, and now she dearly yearned for her emerald green eyes again.

She already missed her old soft facial features, which were now replaced with the harsh and tight looks of vampirism.

Arela sullenly pulled back her hair and slide the sling away so she could see what the marks in her neck were. But what Arela saw made her question her own sanity.

Two fang marks were visible, they were burgundy in color, and blue veins were dispersing away from the scars, making Arela almost uneasy. She was sure they hadn't been a week ago.

_Harkon's fang marks. _Arela glowered. This would probably explain why her neck had been tingling lately.

Arela gently placed her hand on the marks, but quickly withdrew, the scar was searing hot, almost burning her callous fingers. It was almost a contradiction, vampires were suppose to be ice cold, but this mark was blazing away like a fire.

She was sure this had something to do with Harkon or the Blood Bond, it wasn't everyday mysterious marks appeared on her neck. But there was nothing Arela could do. Her only option was to take Serana's advise and to stay away from Lord Harkon.

So far Arela had been successful, she had kept herself cooped up in Serana's room. She was tempted to leave, but every time she reached the threshold she just couldn't force herself to crossover. Fear was really her biggest enemy, the thought of seeing Harkon was just so foreign and unknown now. This Blood Bond business had her thoroughly unnerved.

Not leaving Serana's room had posed a few problems, the most prominent was Arela's inability to feed. It had been two days since her last sip of blood, and now she could feel herself weakening.

The insatiable hunger for blood was beginning to take over... she felt her throat burn, as if acid were corroding away at her esophagus. Just the thought of blood triggered an animalistic desire to sink her fangs into the nearest living being. Arela had confidently convinced herself a day ago that the instinct to feed was in-check, but with every passing hour the desire for blood was almost unmanageable.

Finally, after an hour of sitting and trying to read, Arela tossed her most recent book aside. It had just become too hard to focus, her thirst was distracting her from absorbing anything from the text.

Arela came to the conclusion that she needed to feed, there was no way around it. The most viable option was to just get it over with and hopefully Harkon would stay out of her way, but she found that as being highly unlikely. Harkon sure got a thrill out making everyone's life miserable, to him it was some entertaining game.

Hesitantly, Arela made her way out of Serana's room. She headed down the long staircase that lead to the balcony overlooking the dining hall, Arela thought it best to scope out what was going on.

Having no idea what time it was had its disadvantages; it must have been a normal meal time, for the dining hall was full. Almost every seat was occupied.

Arela was tempted to just turn away from the raucous talking and go back to Serana's room to suffer in silence, until she noticed an open spot at the end of a table next to Garan.

Arela enjoyed Garan's company for the most part; he wasn't interested in the petty court politics and often he was pleasant enough to converse with, unlike everyone else here who only had two subject topics to talk about: killing things and Lord Harkon. Those subjects usually got dull within minutes.

Unceremoniously Arela dragged herself down the stairs that lead to court floor, and the moment Arela stepped out onto the floor she wanted to turn and run, because there, sitting nonchalantly in his throne at the head table was Harkon.

He instantly noticed her arrival, his golden eyes were digging in her skin, as if branding, and marking every inch of her flesh as his property. It was sickening, and Arela just wanted to hide, to protect herself from his iridescent eyes.

Arela's feet skidded to a halt, every fiber of her being told her to run for her life. But she knew it wasn't a feasible option; she couldn't let Harkon know she was afraid of him, that she was shaking deep in her core from his glaze.

Every second longer he stared at her, the prickling in her neck increase, until she was forced to grasp it, as if that would stop the pain.

Her action hadn't gone unnoticed by Harkon, for he flashed her a crooked smirk. A smirk that spoke so much.

_He knew._

He knew of the Blood Bond that was forging stronger everyday. The very Blood Bond that seemed to be consuming Arela's body, as her knees started to shake and slowly threatened to give way.

But thank the divines, Harkon looked away from her, as he went back to focusing on the goblet in his hand.

The stinging in Arela's neck subsided, and that alone gave her a small amount of relief. But now Arela had received the confirmation that the mark on her neck and Harkon were related.

But what could she do about it? Maybe Garan would know.

Arela found the strength to continue on her path; she carefully made her way to the seat next to Garan.

As she passed in front of the head table, Arela's hairs stood up on end and her skin began to crawl wildly, she could feel Harkon's gaze resting on her once again, scorching into her very body. Making her skin dance in discomfort, as goosebumps rose on her flesh.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, Arela reached her seat, next to Garan.

"Hello there, Arela." Garan greeted her, with his formal and solemn tone. He took very little interest in her approach, as he continued to take methodical sips from his goblet. Garan acted as one of the most genteel vampires on this court, even more so than Harkon. Everything had to be proper and strachy to him.

It bothered Arela how much this castle was a caste system, all about ranks and formality. The slaves and serfs toiled and sacrificed themselves so men like Harkon and Garan could live in relative peace. But what bothered Arela even more, was the truth that she landed in the high society of this caste system.

"Nice to see you again, Garan." Arela greeted him through gritted teeth. The mark on her neck was starting to ache, more intensely than before.

"Still in pain from that wound of yours?" Garan asked, as he painted a frown upon his lips.

Arela shook her head. "No, it's my neck. It's been hurting lately."

"Let me take a look." Garan offered, as he set down his silver goblet to push back her thick red hair. "Ah, I see. You're cursed by the Blood Bond... How could I forget, I watched Harkon turn you myself." Garan's arms retracted back to his goblet as his frown deepened. "I'm also afflicted by one too, but mine stopped affecting me long ago."

"Serana mentioned that Valerica had Blood Bond with many of the members on the court. Are you one of them?" Arela inquired.

Garan silently reached for the white collar on his robes that hugged his neck. Carefully he slid the collar down to reveal two purple, puncture marks right on his jugular vein. They were faint and really hard to detect on Garan's dark blue-grey skin, but they were still visible.

"Valerica turned me, _long _ago. Valerica and I were..." But Garan hesitated, she could tell a dark secret was caught on the tip of his tongue and he was debating whether to let the truth surface.

"You two were what?" Arela couldn't help but prompt Garan for the information.

He looked around him suspiciously, but realized everyone was engrossed in their own conversations and no one was listening to them talk. "We were a lot of things... friends, companions, colleagues, and even lovers. I spent time with her in the courtyard, we did alchemy experiments together, studied necromancy together. Valerica was quite lonely once Harkon discovered the prophecy and started on his path of neglecting her, and so she turned to me. " Garan finally confessed in a hushed tone.

"I always felt inexplicably happy around Valerica. I had no idea it was the influence of the Blood Bond, that had me bewitched by that women. I felt what she felt, and her desire for companionship contorted my own thoughts and emotions. I pity you, Arela. Harkon definitely has a dark persona about him, you must be careful or you might catch it."

Arela's jaw dropped, and for a second she didn't think she had heard what Garan had said. "You and Valerica were lovers..."

Garan scowled, "Yes, is that all you absorbed from that?"

"No..." Arela replied awkwardly. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"Harkon treated Valerica like scum. He didn't respect her, he acted like she was nothing to him, nothing but an annoyance. So she came to me for friendship, comfort and affection..." Garan let an exasperated sigh escape his lips."But now she is gone, and I'm stuck serving Harkon for all eternity." Garan let out an irritated groan. "Just keep quiet about what I told you. I trust you to keep this secret, for if Harkon discovered the truth he would surely kill me. I've been trying to repay my treachery to Harkon for the last few hundred years... Simply because if I do die, I want a clear conscience."

"That's quite a secret to keep cooped up for so long..." Arela muttered.

Garan picked up an empty goblet and poured Arela a glass of thick crimson blood. "It is. But enough morbid talk. Come, and relax with us. Feed and rejuvenate." Garan offered her.

Arela gazed at him suspiciously. But Garan had never given her a reason to doubt his hospitality. "Fine. Now, tell me something. What was Valerica like?"

Garan gave her a teasing smile. "Oh, I could tell you volumes about her..."

* * *

Arela had been surprised, she had learned so much about the estranged wife of Harkon and the atrocious mother of Serana.

But the night was beginning to wear down Arela, and Harkon's glances were becoming more frequent and more disturbing with every passing minute.

His very looks were destruction, and dark. But honestly they were terrifying to Arela. It was as if his stare could undress her to her very core, and with every passing glace, Arela was stating to become slightly more flustered.

"Well, I should depart. But thank you Garan for tell me about Valerica." Arela announced, she ascended from her seat, and quietly pushed in her chair. Arela gave him a faint smile, while she readjusted her sling.

Garan gave him a surprised look. "You're leaving already, before the really entertainment starts?"

"What are you talking about?" Arela felt her brow furrow, she had no idea what Garan was talking about. What entertainment was he referring to?

Garan let out a muted chuckle. "I have foreseen two dark beings that are going to visit us tonight. They are coming to challenge Harkon. I thought you knew?"

"No, not at all. Well, that explains why Harkon is here in the dining hall. Still, I prefer to not witness Harkon rip vampires apart." Arela snorted as she headed back toward Serana's room.

It was as if Arela's departure had caused a chain reaction, as soon as she stood up, so did Harkon. He rose to his feet and his gaze fixated on Arela.

Arela strutted over toward the stairs, and about to walk pass Harkon without even a glance, but he intersected her path, and gripped her uninjured arm tightly, which caused Arela to jump.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harkon asked in a challenging tone.

Arela looked down at Harkon's hand, it was like a solid block of ice, numbing Arela's already cold resistant skin, but his touch also caused electric shocks to spiral around her brain, and body.

Fearful, Arela looked up and faced Harkon, and instantly felt herself getting lost in his golden irises. They were powerful and commanding, and Arela could feel her feet adhering to the floor.

"I...I was going back to Serana's room..." Arela stuttered. She felt as if she was caught now in a trap, an inescapable bind.

"Ah, but you will miss the newcomers, and it would be a shame, would it not? So, I implore you to stay, Arela." Harkon said in a hushed tone, but his words entwined with a taunt.

Arela tried her best to conjure words, but she couldn't, she was lost. It was as Harkon had planned this stall on her thoughts. "Uh... I-I should go..." She sputtered, finally shaking Harkon's iron grip off her.

Harkon gave her one icy look. "What a disappointment, I was hoping you could help me greet our new guests. They should be here at any moment."

"What an offer, but I'll pass." Arela said sarcastically.

As she was about to make her escape, the front hall doors were forced open with a thundering boom. She could feel the castle itself tremble beneath her at the force in which the heavy wooden doors were opened.

"They are here." Harkon whispered, his voice was filled with wonder and slight excitement.

Two silhouette were visible in the entrance hall. Their bodies and faces were cloaked in shadows, but their figures were large, and it was extremely frightening

But disgust garnished Harkon face when two gargantuan Redguard mortal men stepped forward and revealed themselves, as they let the shadows fall behind them, like curtains. Their faces looked almost identical, from their course skin and mild facial features, to their war-torn scars.

They were clad in the traditional Alik'r garbs, with cloth that was wound around their heads to shield themselves from sand. Their armour was ragged and worn from years of wear and tear. Jagged scratches adorned their faces and only added to Arela's deep pitted fear, as if their size wasn't enough to scare her.

It was plain to anyone these men were seasoned warriors, from the battle scarred faces, to the dangerous scimitars that were freshly sharpened.

Slowly they made their way down on the court floor, their eyes scanning everyone with caution, and their hand was placed on the hilt of their swords, as if they were expecting one of the vampires to jump out at them. Arela was sure (if these men hadn't already been claimed as prey for Harkon) someone would have jumped and killed these men.

As they advanced, Arela could feel a lump growing in her throat. The look in their eyes told Arela they were more likely going to crush her before they would ever greet her.

It was very sudden, but an overwhelming smell of wet dog assaulted Arela's nose. She didn't want to draw attention, but she couldn't hold back a loud cough that rocked through her body.

Harkon seemed unaffected as he let out the most sardonic, low chuckle imaginable. "So, Molag Bal sent you two to challenge me? Two mortals?"

The Redguards ignored Harkon's jeerking. Their eyes had a burning hatred festering in them.

The two Redguard men had finally reached them, and they were honestly the scariest men Arela had ever seen. She craned her neck up just to look them in the eyes, and realized these men had at least another heads height on her. They were like two towering mountains, wide and broad, as well as monumentally tall. These men even loomed over Harkon, but Harkon didn't even look threatened by their height.

"We heard of your prowess, Harkon. Sybille Stentor told us of your skill, and now we have come to challenge you." The man on the right said. His voice was undeniably deep and robust. It shook in Arela's eardrums.

Harkon gave them a wicked smile, "Two mortals? Are you sure this is what you want? I'm a forgiving man, and I will forgive you. If you leave now." Lord Harkon folded his arms against him chest.

The two men looked at one another, and it was clear they were not going to back down. "No, we are both going to fight you." The men said in unison.

Harkon let out a rich laugh, "I've ruled over this court for thousands of years. I've had hundreds of vampires challenge me before, so what makes you think you two, mortal men will be able to defeat me?"

The two Redguards remained silent.

Harkon's wicked smirk only grew as he continued to speak, "To address your statement, I only fight one competitor at a time. But I'm sure Arela, my most powerful court member, will join me in this fight. It will make the challenge fair." Harkon said, as he gestured to her. Idiotically Arela just stood there, her jaw dropped and stayed ajar. She couldn't find the strength to close it, or respond because no words would come to her.

The two men looked at her as if she was fresh prey, or they were pitting her, with her sling and mangled Nightingale armour. They both nodded in eagerness. "We accept the challenge."

Harkon awarded them a dark smirk. "Good, Garan will show you to the cathedral, and Arela and I will join you there, shortly. Come, Arela we have a fight to prepare for. "

Still Arela was frozen in place. She couldn't commander her feet to move, they were glued to the floor. In all honesty, Arela didn't want to move, because she was terrified. She couldn't swing a sword or use her bow properly. Her arm was still weak and incapacitated, the only weapon she still had was her Voice.

But these two Redguard men were going to pummel her before she would even get to say a word.

Arela's breath started to accelerate, as the gravity of the situation had just dawned on her, Harkon had just commended her to an imminent death.

* * *

**[A/N]: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. What do you guys think is going to happen next? Please leave me your thoughts of this chapter, I really do enjoy your feedback! :)**


	25. Speechless

**[A/N]: *Crawls out from beneath a rock.* Hey guys, sorry it's been such a long time, I have been taking a bit of a break from reading and writing. I've been getting ready for college, which starts next week. But, I promise you this chapter was worth waiting for. ;)**

**This week I'd like to thank asqwerty3345, for checking over this chapter! :)**

**[DISCLAIMER]:I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's job. But Arela, Celta and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Lady Gaga, Speechless**_

_**I'll never talk again  
Oh boy you've left me speechless  
You've left me speechless, so speechless**_

* * *

Arela felt as though she was submerged in water, the world seemed to slow and all the motions around her seemed to mingle and blend together. Splashes of light whipped across her eyes and caught her attention, but soon they would fade, leaving her lost, confused and baffled.

_How did this happen? _Arela asked herself. Why had Harkon offered her up? _Why not Garan, Fura or even Feran? Why me? _Arela dabbled in her wavy thoughts.

She felt like she was drowning, and she desperately was trying to claw her way to the surface. Nothing seemed real and everything was dominated by just shapes and colors. The lights seemed to dim and fade, as if the heavens were calling her already.

Arela shut her eyes to try and block out the whirlwind of lights. But the illusion still twirled in her head which made her stomach queasy. For the first time Arela wasn't sure what was going on, until something grasp a hold on her.

Arela's eyes snapped open from the unexpected touch. Her wild vision cleared, and she started to gain her focus back. Harkon gripped Arela's arm to try and break her from the dream like state that was running over her.

Harkon started to speaking to her, but the words coming from his dull pink lips seemed to fall on her deaf ears, as her brain refused to register his voice.

Arela turned her head away unable to look at him for fear she might slap him right across the face. She was trying to control the anger that was submerged below, and the only way to diffuse her feelings was to look away, to avoid eye contact and confrontation.

Instantly, her eyes were being pulled towards Garan, as he collected the two Redguard men, and guiding them to the chapel. As Garan passed he shot Arela a look that spoke so many words, mostly ones of sorrow and pity, and her fear only solidified with Garan's gaze.

It also didn't help that the Redguard men gave her murderous and blood thirsty stares. They obviously didn't see her as a threat and more like a juicy meal, and soon she would be at their mercy.

As the two men ascended the steps toward the chapel, Arela could pick up the raw strength and power these men possessed. Their steps were heavy and she could hear the rippling waves of pure muscle under their skin. _These men are truly strong, what chance do I have of defeating them?! _Arela screamed internally.

Once they were out of range Arela let out a heavy sigh. Deep down she had a sickening feeling, and all she wanted to do was run, but running wasn't an option. Especially not when she was required to fight this battle.

"Were you listening to me?" Harkon's voice fractured Arela's thoughts.

"No." Arela admitted, nervously, she had been too preoccupied with thoughts of her own demise.

"You can't afford to lose your wit now, Arela. Especially since I expect you to fight alongside me. Now, go to Serana's room to prepare for the battle. I will be there momentarily. I have my own preparations to make." Harkon said impatiently.

"Ok, I will. Thanks for this." Arela glared daggers into Harkon, while she shook herself free of his grip. But Harkon cut in front of her, and made his way up out of the court and toward his room, and unfortunately Arela was forced to follow in his footsteps.

Arela morbidly dragged herself up the steps that lead toward the balcony and Harkon's room.

Harkon was taking fast strides toward his room, as if in a hurry to start this battle. Before he entered his room he whirled around to face Arela. He awarded her a very dark and glowing glance, before he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him.

_Why does he have to make this more miserable than before? _Arela glowered.

Arela slowly found her feet carrying her to Serana's room; she knew she needed to get weapons and collect some supplies. But her feet felt weak and were threatening to give way.

As she made it to Serana's room, Arela sat herself down at the small table centered in the room. Desperately, she tried to take even and steady breaths, but soon it because increasingly difficult. Her breaths started coming in ragged surges, and soon she felt as if her throat was being constricted by two invisible hands.

"Relax. Relax. Relax." Arela muttered to herself, hoping that repeating the mantra would help stop her from hyperventilating, but her efforts were in vain.

She could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes, and waves of harsh anger and betrayal were crashing into her.

_Damn Harkon! How could he do this to her! _He knew she was incapacitated, for damn sake she had a sling on her arm. The very thought of what he had done was entirely sickening. He was probably going to use her as bait; let one of the Redguard men rip her to bits while Harkon slowly took his time killing the other.

But now wasn't a time to lose her focus, she needed to be ready to prove herself as capable as any fighter. If she could defeat these men now as injured and weak, then no court member would mess with her ever again.

Arela took her only usable arm and nimbly removed the sling from her shoulder.

Her shoulder joint was stiff. Cautiously Arela tested her joint by loosely shaking it. There was a minute shock of pain, but it wasn't too severe, so Arela ignored it.

Carefully, Arela prodded her wounded shoulder, she wasn't sure how much had healed so far. But to her surprise, the wound was mostly healed over, the skin surrounding the puncture was tender and fresh, but firm enough to not reopen the wound.

Now for her final test, Arela picked up weight of the sword itself felt ten times heavier than normal, and her sore and wounded shoulder felt as if it was ablaze from the strain. A light moan of pain escaped Arela as she lifted the weapon up to put it in it's holder.

The realization of her fighting inability was starting to set in. _How can I fight if I can't even lift my sword?! _Arela thoughts were fluttering wildly through her head, desperately she was searching for a solution, to all this, but still she was empty handed.

Arela did a quick pace around the room, she needed to collect her frayed and scattered nerves. She knew deep down that this was going to be a fight for survival, not for glory, nor for proving strength, but to just simply live.

As Arela walked passed Serana's small mirror, she quickly took a nonchalant glance at herself in the dull mirror, but she stopped dead at the sight of her armour.

Her Nightingale armour was tattered and damaged, almost to the point of looking unfit for combat. There were multiple vulnerabilities and holes, the most prominent was the spot where the assassin's arrow had burrowed into her shoulder. But she also noted the cape was fraying and there was still marks from dried blood and other ungodly stains.

It was impossible for Arela to hold back a sigh of discontent. This was only another problem she had to face before this battle.

Arela headed over to her knapsack, and rummaged through it as a fast as her hands would allow her. She tossed aside useless undershirts and leggings, until she finally found her prized black Guildmaster armour.

Just the simple feeling of the thick, dark leather in her hands send involuntary shivers firing around her body. But Arela couldn't waste time admiring the fine handy work.

Quickly, Arela stripped herself of her Nightingale armour, and took to adorning her Guildmaster leather. Pulling on the tight leather leggings and strapping all the buckles on her leather cuirass.

Arela was starting to feel refreshed. She neatly pulled the bandoliers across her chest so they criss-crossed, and to finish it off she opted to tuck a daedric dagger into her boot, just for an extra line of defence.

Feeling slightly more prepared, Arela looked up and soaked in the details of her new form. She quickly took inventory of everything, scanning her body head to toe. But the only thing that looked unattended was her ruby red hair that seemed to be shooting out in every direction, and falling lazily in front of her eyes. But it was an easy fix, so Arela started to collect her hair. She elected to go with a huntress styled braid for the fight.

She wanted the best possible vision for the battle, and having spindles in her face should be the last of her concerned while fighting. She couldn't afford any hindrance for the battle, especially in such a lopsided fight.

As Arela completed her braid, she heard heavy boots steps approaching her room. She prayed to Nocturnal it wasn't one of the Redguard men here to take an early stab at her. Never the less, it was Harkon, as he entered, his pace quick and apprehensive.

Harkon hadn't done much to prepare for the battle, as he had only added a Akivarian sword to his arsenal. He hadn't even bothered to change into more protective armour.

But Arela didn't care, she could feel rage billow inside her, building and churning, like a storm cloud, and she took no time or effort to control it.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Arela shouted at Harkon. "You know I can't fight! I can't even lift my sword!"

Harkon tested the waters by taking a few steps closer, his voice was smooth and rich, as he tried to remedy the situation. "You can fight. I don't need your sword swinging skills. I just need that Voice of yours. Your thu'um is what I desire. I need an extra line of defense."

Arela let a feral growl escape her lips. "And you didn't think it was necessary to give me an opinion in this, considering you're tossing me to the wolves."

"No, your opinion was not needed. But how humorous that you mention wolves." Harkon jested, as he stalked around her.

Arela slammed her fist on the table, and whipped around to face Harkon, who was to her back. This man was so infuriating, how could feeding her to the wolves even be funny. "That's not funny at all. You're tossing me out like a meat shield." Arela spat.

"Oh no, that's not what I find humorous. Don't tell me, you couldn't figure out these men were werewolves? They reeked of dog, it was quite blatant." He just couldn't keep the condescending tone out of his voice.

_"What?! _So you volunteered me to kill two werewolves with you! No, that's _not _happening." Arela said sharply.

Harkon awarded her an angry frown. "Then you have forfeited your spot on my court to one of those Redguard men."

"How is that fair!" Arela snarled. "This wasn't my decision!"

"Sometimes our hand is played for us. The sooner you accept that, the better." Harkon said firmly, as he crossed his over his chest;

Arela just wanted to connect her fist with the side of Harkon's face. But she just needed to sit down and sort through her thoughts once again. Plus punching Harkon was not going to solve any of her problems.

She decided to focus on her breathing, and nothing else, hoping it could be the key to relaxation. But Arela was wrong, the air felt so heavy in her lungs, like lead weights that were dragging her down.

She still didn't fully understand Harkon's reasoning. Her thu'um wasn't some spell that she could conjure at any moment. Her Voice needed time to regenerate, or otherwise there could be dangerous repercussions.

There was honestly no reason she even needed to be involved in this battle. Hestla had alluded to Harkon being the most powerful man she knew, so why was Harkon forcing her to join him in combat? Arela decided to go against her better judgement and ask Harkon himself.

"Why did you volunteer me, Harkon? I've heard stories about you ripping people in half, it sounds as though you're fully capable of taking on two pesky werewolves." Arela gave him a wicked smile. She was fully enjoying poking fun at Harkon's capabilities as a Vampire Lord.

"Do not mock me." Harkon spat. "I can't afford to take risks with these men, especially when they're werewolves."

"Oh, you're afraid, of these two men." Arela jeered again. "I thought you didn't fear anything, Harkon."

"I don't fear these men, not in the slightest. It's better to be cautious rather than rash." Harkon said confidently. "I need someone I trust to fight along my side."

"You trust me?"

"More than anyone else on my court." Harkon frowned. "But most Pure-Bloods know their bonded subjects would not betray them. They live to serve, and obey, it's a fact of nature that's impossible to overcome."

Arela hissed, as she got up and stormed passed Harkon. Of course she was just an object to Harkon.

She brushed past him and didn't even give him a backward glance. She couldn't stand being in the same room as this man another second, and she couldn't even fathom how she was going to fight alongside him.

"After thousands of years, I could never comprehend how any master vampire could condone feelings for those Blood Bonded to him. I knew Valerica use to take advantage of the Bonds she had created, and I thought it repulsive." Harkon said with disgust in his voice. "But now, that I have experienced it's strength I find it impossible to avoid the pitfall of feelings this Blood Bond has created, and emotions are something I have shutout for so long."

Arela felt her feet stop in their tracks from Harkon's confession, she stood there like a statue for a few seconds, before she conjured the gumpshun to slowly turn around and face Harkon.

"What?" Arela asked, with a dumb-stuck tone.

"Don't beguile me by pretending to be deaf. You heard every word of that." Harkon said boldly.

Arela still couldn't wrap her head around his confession. This must be a trick to try and remedy everything before the fight.

"What are you saying?" Arela inquired, cursing herself for letting her tone sound slightly smitten.

"I'm saying I won't let them kill you, you're too valuable to me." Harkon stroked his well trimmed beard in an nervous fashion.

Arela wanted to reply to his words of sentiment, but she was stunned. She never thought that Harkon would ever say such a thing. According to Serana fondness wasn't Harkon's forte. Could this be the Blood Bond that was affecting him?

She couldn't be sure. The impression she had gotten from Garan and Serana was the Blood Bond was a one way street, only the one who created the Bond could have control.

But Arela felt as though his words were a trap and she was caught in it, as she sensed herself being drawn in by Harkon, and her once fierce anger that had blinded her was slowly melting away like ice. She didn't understand, why or how, but it was as if Harkon himself was resonating a relaxing frequency. She almost wanted to conjure her anger once again, but it was absent as if long forgotten.

Deep down Arela was damning herself for letting Harkon influence her. But since Serana had left Arela had felt so empty, and now for some reason Harkon was churning some emotion in her. Something that had been buried for so long, something forgotten, something almost lost to Arela, and now she didn't want to let it go. She didn't know what it was, but it was something that was being reciprocated from Harkon as well.

Harkon took only a few more steps toward Arela to face her. He looked down upon her with eyes that were hypnotizing and had a very dark sparkle to them, as if the stars were shining within them.

Arela swore her very body was betraying her, as she felt goosebumps rise on her pale flesh. She could even feel herself shake with an unexpected anticipation. But there was nothing to anticipate, except an imminent battle.

"You seem to be shaking, Dovahkiin. I thought you had nerves of steel." Harkon breathed, in a patronizing tone. Normally Arela would have just let a cheeky insult freely slip from her mouth, but for some reason she was speechless. Words wouldn't leave her.

"Speechless? That seems to be a first." Harkon gave her a wryly smirk, but Arela was more preoccupied with searching Harkon's glowing eyes, they were captivating, ancient and as commanding as the moon itself.

Arela's eyes darted to her feet. She felt compelled to break her stare; she was actually nervous to look at Harkon a second longer.

But Arela never got to finish her thought, because Harkon grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. They still glowed like liquid gold, but now they had such a dark hint to them. He was craving something from her, and she was anxious to find out what.

Harkon cocked one of his eyebrows up in interest. "I have been endlessly wonder how this Blood Bond affects you." Harkon pried, tilting her face just enough as if examining her.

"It doesn't…" But Arela's mind went blank, she couldn't breath, she couldn't think, she couldn't even move or push him away. She couldn't even utter another word before her lips were captured in a mind numbing kiss.

* * *

**[A/N]: Hehe, I hope that wasn't too mean? There will be more about Arela soon, but next chapter is going to be about Serana and Enden. Thank you for reading, and please leave me some of your thoughts. :)**


	26. Home Sweet Sewer

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I just thought I'd update one last time before my first day of college tomorrow. After today, I have no idea when my next update will be. Updates might be sporadic, and less frequent until I figure out my schedule, so bear with me.**

**Also, thanks everyone for the feedback on the last chapter! Some were really funny (from the reactions of shock), and others brought new ideas to the table. But, ****I truly loved every review.**

**This week I'd like to thank asqwerty3345, for checking over this chapter! :)**

****** [DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scroll Series that's Bethesda's gig not mine, I'm just giving them the credit they deserve. But Arela, Enden, and Celta are my characters and I call all rights to them.**

* * *

_**~Awolnation, Not Your Fault**_

_**Maybe I'm a little confused,  
It's not your fault,  
It's not your fault, yeah and  
Baby, it's a wonderful news.  
It's not your fault  
It's not your fault, yeah.  
Oh, it's not that you should care.  
I just wanted you to know.  
**_

* * *

The winds in northern Skyrim were always strong, as powerful gales tugged at Serana's hair, and took vicious nips at her already cold cheeks. Instinctively, she pulled up her black leather hood to protect her skin from wind burn and the icy snowflakes. But the elements around her never succeeded, as the wind still whipped around her and water churned and splashed up against the boat.

Enden had taken the liberty to row the small boat all the way to the castle, even in his tired looking state.

Serana had taken note of his haunting features, he had dark circles ladened under his eyes, and it was obvious he was straining himself to stay awake.

It was even more impressive that he was still rowing, even against the sea's choppy currents, and the prevailing winds.

"Are we getting closer?" Enden shouted over the deafening winds. His voice sounded wary and she could see his arms were beginning to shake from the force he was exerting.

"We are almost to the shore." She responded, as she tried to stop water from splashed up into the boat.

Serana looked out over the edge of the dinghy, and to her relief she could finally see sand down below the water. Which only mean one thing, they were approaching the shore, and the castle. _We're finally back home_, she thought, morbidly.

Enden kept rowing, but Serana jumped out, and helped guide the dinghy to the dock.

But once she left the boat, and the water was up to her knees, and she regretted her decision to get out. The sea water was so frigid, it numbed her nerves and killed any feelings she had in her legs.

She quickly pulled the boat along and tied it to the dock with lightning speed, mostly so she could speedily clamber out the water.

Enden finally crawled out of the boat and ran his hands over his light brown, stubbly beard. He just sat there on the dock for a few seconds, it was obvious he was exhausted from the long trip off Skyrim's shore.

"You look quite tired." Serana stifled a laugh.

"What gave it away." Enden was desperately trying to catch his breath, as he looked up at her.

"I might have something that can help." Opening her knapsack, Serana wasted no time looking for a stamina potion.

Once she found one, she handed it to Enden, who examined the concoction suspiciously.

"Stop acting like I'm trying to poison you. It's just a stamina potion, it will give you some energy." Serana sighed.

Enden shrugged, "I was just making sure. I'm not much of an alchemist, so I don't really know what you're giving me."

Without anymore protest Enden uncorked the bottle and slammed the contents. After he was done drinking, Serana noticed Enden wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"That tasted like the most repulsive apple. But I already feel like I have more energy." Enden pulled himself to his feet.

"You've never had a stamina potion before?" She couldn't help but feel shocked; he was a warrior after all.

"No..." Enden said defensively. "I never really had a use for one. I was in the Stormcloak army, and the army is more about endurance than using all your strength in a short time."

"I didn't mean that to be rude. I was just surprised, warriors usually use stamina potions."

Enden wasted no more time talking, and he walking straight past her.

_One step forward, two steps thought in frustration._ No matter what she said or did for him, he always had to take it as an insult.

Serana watched Enden slowly walk toward the Castle's bridge before stopping. The look in his eyes was one of pure awe.

Awe for the castle was something that had never plagued Serana. Even when she first moved to the island she had never been taken-back by it's looks. The home looked daunting and empty, with the dark stone color, and the accenting gargoyle statues.

Their home in Atmora had been larger, and very clinical, nothing like this castle, which seemed to be the epitome of darkness. But Serana couldn't remember much about Atmora, time and memories often blended together when she had millions of memories packed into her brain.

"Is... Is Arela in there...?" Enden's voice disrupted Serana's thoughts.

"Yeah, she is, but don't worry, she's fine. She can take care of herself, plus most vampires don't mess with her." Serana reassured Enden, just the look in his face voiced his concerns for Arela. Deep down Serana hoped she was right. She prayed that Arela had taken her advice and stayed away from everyone else, particularly her father.

"Really? Why do you say that?" Enden inquired.

Serana honestly didn't really want to delve too deeply into an explanation, because there was more than one answer to that question. Starting with Arela proving her battle prowess by shouting Feran across the dining hall, as well as Father's possessiveness of her.

Serana concluded to kept her answer simple. "They're afraid of her."

Enden actually smiled at her, "It's good to hear Arela isn't letting anyone push her around. So where are we heading again?"

"The western side of the island, there is an inlet where cargo ships use to come in." Serana started heading along the shore in the direction of the cove.

The shore was barren, except for the occasional debris like boards and broken crates that were littered among the rocks. Enden was enjoying kicking an empty bottle of mead across the rocky sand.

Serana smirked, it was good to see the less hostile side of Enden for a change, even if he wasn't being particular nice to her.

"You seem to have a bit of an inner child." Serana commented, as she watched Enden kick the bottle into the Sea of Ghosts.

Enden frowned. "So." He replied flatly. "I think I should be allowed to have some fun on occasion, unless you just want everything to be about business all the time." He let out an angry huff, as stalked past her.

"Well, why else are we out here, if it wasn't for business? I just want to find my mother and get this Elder Scroll as soon as possible." She confessed. "I... haven't seen my mother in a few thousand years, so I would like to reunite with her again."

But Enden had walked too far ahead and most likely hadn't heard her say a word._ Well I guess I was being too hopeful that things would get better._

Serana stormed after him, as he approached a very small jetty, that marked the entrance to the undercroft. She knew the undercroft could be dangerous, so she readied herself by summoning an ice spike and drawing her ebony dagger.

She watched as Enden slowed his pace, she wasn't sure why until an arrow narrowly missed his shoulder.

It seemed Father had resurrected skeletons to defend the inlet, though she wasn't quite sure why.

Serana rush toward the cove and was taken-back by the change in scenery. The last time she had been to the inlet it had still been very clinical, probably because of Mother. But it seemed years of disrepair and lack of care on behalf of Father had taken its toll.

Parts of the castle were crumbling into the small cove, and even the once sturdy stone overhang was tumbling straight into the sea.

There was even a sunken and rotting ship positioned in the loading dock, which Serana was sure hadn't been there all those years ago.

The action of Enden pulling out his crossbow snapped Serana out of her reminiscing.

He already had taken aim and removed one skeleton from the balcony, as it's bones rained down to the stone below.

Feeling no reason to hesitate, Serana unleashed an ice spike from her fingertips. It cruised through the air and landed directly in the bony chest of a skeleton mage. Instantly, it crumbled into a pile.

Enden finished off the last bone man by planting a well aimed bolt into his skull.

Once all the skeletons had been taken care of, they started up the steps toward the entrance to the undercroft in silence.

"You ready?" Serana finally broke the thick stillness.

Enden responded by giving her a curt nod though he looked a bit nervous and jumpy.

Still, Serana wasted no time opening the door, and working her way into the undercroft, with Enden close at her heels.

Immediately, an overpowering smell of sewage and death assaulted Serana's super sensitive nose. She felt her throat close up, as the acrid fumes filled into her airway. All she could do was try and take small breaths to control the power of the scent.

Enden started coughing violently, and she could actually see tear forming in his eyes.

"What is that smell?" He said in a raspy and weak voice.

Serana finally found her voice. "This is the castle sewer, Home sweet, eh... sewer. Not the most pleasant part of the undercroft, but this is the only way to the courtyard."

"I can handle the smell. I use to live in the sewers under Riften with the Thieves Guild." He coughed out. "Let's just push on."

Serana looked around and realize how much had changed. Icicles were hanging from the ceiling now, something had never happened before.

Bones were scattered across the dull, gray tile floor. Some bones even looked recent, as piece of flesh and cartilage still clung to them. Something made her believe that either father had been using the undercroft as a dumping ground for the castle's useless waste, or they weren't alone down here, and Serana was betting on the later.

"Do you know where we are going?" Enden urged.

"Yes, I use to spend a lot of time poking around down here." She said.

"And why would you spend time down here?"

"I was a curious child. My parents never let me have any freedom off this damn rock. So I spent my time exploring down here. I guess a little vampire girl was enough to scare off the _rats_." Enden pick up on her emphasis of the word rats.

Enden shifted uncomfortably, "What makes you say that?"

"It's just... I feel like we might not be the only ones here. The bones still have flesh in them, which can only mean someone or something has been eating off them. Stay on your guard, I don't know what's been lurking down here since I've been gone."

She swore she heard Enden gulp in anticipation. Silently, they slunk down a few pair of steps before they reached a door that lead to the entrance of the old Cistern.

There was an ugly and smelly skeever blocking their path, but Enden shot a steel bolt right into its throat before it would squeal and give their position away.

Of course, as soon as Serana had opened the door to the old Cistern, Enden happened to trip over a trail of chains that were laying in plain sight. He cursed, but it was too late to undo his actions, as a group of death hounds farther ahead locked their beady red eyes on them.

There wasn't much time before the pack started sprinting toward them. All Serana could do was back up and conjure an ice spike that luckily smashed into the jaw of one hound that had been trailing in the back. The dog's face dived down and connected with the stone, and it lay there still and motionless.

Enden had reloaded his crossbow in enough time to take out another charging hound, but one of the dogs was left alive. The canine lept into the air and with its teeth bared, the hound crashed into her.

Serana felt herself flying in the air and she landed painfully on her back, feeling the wind rushing out of her lungs from the force of the blow. But she ignored the pain, for her attention was called to the hound that was snapping at her throat.

It's hot breath was beating on her neck and she swore its saliva was dripping on her face. Serana had to use both of her hands to hold the dog back.

Enden grasped the hellish hound by its thick collar and chucked the dog right against the wall with back-breaking force. The mutt whimpered in agony, before it was silent.

"Thanks." Serana muttered, as she got to her feet and brushed off her armor.

Enden gave her a weak smile. "Yeah, I wasn't about to let that hound maul you. What would Arela say if I returned with you in a million pieces? Now where to?"

Serana was relieved at his light-hearted joke. "There should be a lever nearby."

So, they headed toward a pair of steps. It wasn't long until they found a small room which was filled with books, vampire apparel, and a coffin.

The floor was slippery from pools of blood that seemed to accumulate on the tiles. It was suspicious, but with all the death hounds lurking about anything was possible.

But there was the lever, they were looking for, it was positioned right next a small balcony.

"Hey, look there's the lever!" Enden said loud enough to stir something that was inside the coffin.

A thunderous snarl filled the air, as a bald, female high elf, with blood red eyes erupted from the coffin. The woman was adorned in raggedly spun garments, and her body was covered in patches of filth and dried blood. It was obvious she has been living down here a long time.

Before Serana could move, the vampire smacked Enden out of the way; he tumbled over the small overhang and fell down below. She heard a thud, and prayed Enden wasn't hurt. But she had no time to check, for it seemed the feral vampire had her eyes fixated on Serana.

"So, a Volkihar vampire finally has the nerve to show up here? I'll teach you to reject me!" The women spat, as she let forth a drain life spell from her finger tip.

Serana anticipated the action, and nimbly dived to the right just in time.

Like lightning, she jumped forward and tackled the woman to the ground, pinning her arms to the grimy and slippery floor. The bald vampire hissed and squirmed in sheer anger.

Dexterously, Serana had used one of her feet to pin the woman's arms down; she grabbed her dagger and planed it straight into the vampire's throat. Blood squirted onto her face as the dagger pierced her skin and jugular vein. The feral vampire let out a gurgle before going limp.

Serana sat down next to the vampire; she wiped the blood off her face. _This is just not my cup of blood_, fighting these vengeful vampires. She thought in frustration.

Oddly enough, the feral woman had a small note that was hanging from her pocket, and at this point Serana had no care for personal privacy.

She snatched it up and read it with haste:

_Not good enough to live in their stupid keep, am I? Stupid sods don't realize I've moved into the undercroft and started taking control of their own death hounds. I'll get my revenge._

Serana let out a sad sigh. She often struggled to understand the nature of her own kind, everything vampires seemed to do was linked with power or vengeance.

This feral vampire didn't even realize she was no different from the very man that rejected her. Father was driven by power and the thought of bring justice to the mortal world by blocking out the sun. It just seemed entirely ironic, how every vampire was fighting for the same thing: power. It was just sickening to her.

But Serana was snapped for her thoughts, from a voice. "Uh, damn vampires! I hate them so much!" Enden hissed.

She leaned over the balcony to witness Enden standing up, next to a bridge that was drawn up.

"Why is that?" Serana asked in pure curiosity.

"It's none or your business why." He said hostilely.

"I'm going to pry you for a reason. I've just been so curious, how men like you come to hate my kind."

Enden let out an angry huff. "Well, if you didn't know your kind isn't the friendliest. Now can you pull the lever?" Enden said from down below.

Serana couldn't fight the smile that was forming on her lips. "Once you tell me why you hate vampires so much."

"Really? This is so childish." Enden scowled at her.

"I'm not the one with the inner child. I don't play kick the bottle on the beach, Enden. Once you tell me, I'll pull the lever." She didn't even try and keep the teasing tone out of her voice.

"Really..." Enden glowered at her, but finally he completed. "Fine, I'll tell you." He let out a heavy sigh.

"I was stationed in Falkreath during my time in the Stormcloak army. One day I went out to collect supplies, and when I came back the whole camp had by destroyed by vampires. All these men I considered brothers and friends had been killed. My best friend Saljolf, I found had been enthralled, and attacked me on sight. I had to kill him... it was one of the hardest things I had to do in my life."

Enden's tone was shaky. "I never returned to Windhelm to report the whole attack, they probably assume I'm dead... Which is probably better, because I wanted to join the Dawnguard, and seek my revenge on the group that killed my brothers. So, I asked Arela to join with me, and that's how this all happened."

Serana blinked in surprise. That was one of the last things she expected; she had assumed Enden would hate her kind for some petty reason. But this reason had real significance, having all your friends slaughtered in cold-blood was something some people could never even stomach.

"I'm so sorry, Enden. Words can't even express how terrible that is."

He nodded. "Now, can you pull the lever?" He asked, quietly.

"Ok."

"Wait." Enden called her attention again. "I just want to say thanks for making me get that off my chest. I've had the truth cooped up for so long, and I guess it was eating away at me. I never even told Arela... I just never knew how to tell her. But I'm glad I told someone at least."

"I'm glad you got it off your chest too." She smiled, and she turned away, feeling as though her heart was about to break. She felt so bad for Enden now.

But she went back to the task at hand, and pulled the lever, but it seemed the gears were rusted. Serana let an angry huff, and then used her foot to kick the lever down.

Wasting no time, she jumped off the balcony, feeling the rush of air tickle her face. She landed on the floor with grace and finesse.

"Graceful, are we?" Enden asked.

"It takes years to master grace and dexterity." She smiled.

Enden rolled his eyes, obviously not amused by her comment. But she could tell he wasn't trying to be hostile either.

Serana brushed past him and continued across the old wooden bridge, until she reached the small stone split.

But in her haste Serana had missed a slick patch of ice that formed from the run off of the icicles that hung from the rocky ceiling. Instantly she felt her feet disappeared from beneath her, as she lost her balance, and slide right off the stone bridge.

She was falling straight into a pit of spikes, and all she could do was close her eyes so she didn't have to witness this last moment before she was impaled.

It seemed as if an eternity had passed and still she felt nothing, but a choking force around her neck. Am I dead already? She wondered.

"What happened to being a master of grace?" Enden's teasing voice broke the silence.

Serana opened her eyes to see that she was hanging a few inches from the pit of spikes. She looked up to see Enden had grabbed hold of her cape was now pulling her up.

She was finally able to grab hold of the bridge, and yank herself up. "You... You saved my life." Serana said in a wild rasp for air.

"All in a days work." Enden chuckled. "Now let's get this bridge down."

Serana smiled, and for the first time she was glad Enden was here. Not simply because he had saved her life, but because everything had changed between them. She felt as if the hostilely was melting away, and now something new was blooming. Something fresh, and now she wanted to find out what.

* * *

**[A/N]: Well, I've already started the next chapter, and it's quite interesting so far; the conclusion to that kiss and an upcoming battle scene. But please, leave me some of your thoughts for this chapter, I really do appreciate feedback! :)**


	27. No Common Sense

**[A/N]: Hey guys, I know I haven't updated in almost two weeks, but I really wanted to take my time with this chapter. There are just certain chapters that are vitally to a story, and this chapter happened to be one of them - so I took the liberty of taking time to refine it. On another small note, I'm also going to post a small newsfeed on my profile page, which will have the estimated date of my next update, or other interesting news worth noting.**

**I have a few special thank yous to announce, one to mfait matresse for checking over some of my scenes. For you Harkon fans, I implore you to checking out her new story called _Dark Embrace_. Her fic is definitely a stroke of pure genius. Also, thank you Erakleon for looking over a certain opening scene for me, it was much appreciated.**

**Also, I know I sometimes neglect thanking our guests, so thank you Cassus, Amber Smith and you other countless guests that read this story and leave reviews! :D**

**Thank you asqwerty3345, for being a wonderful beta and checking over this chapter! :)**

**[WARNING]: This chapter might contain some graphic scenes (of violence and slight intimacy), but not enough to make this story rated M. Also for those of you that despise Harkon - and I know there are a few of you out there, the opening scene you might consider skipping for its slightly romantic content.**

**[DISCLAIMER]: I don't own the Elder Scrolls Series, that's Bethesda's job. But Arela, Celta and Enden are my characters and belong to me.**

* * *

_**~Ellie Goulding, I Need Your Love**_

_**Am I dreaming? Will I ever find you now?  
I walk in circles but I'll never figure out  
What I mean to you, do I belong?  
I try to fight this but I know I'm not that strong  
And I feel so helpless here  
Watch my eyes are filled with fear  
Tell me do you feel the same.  
**_

* * *

Arela had never been much of a romantic, she had always been driven by raw emotions and feelings, not by sweet talking, flowers, or luxurious gifts. It had always been the connection, the feelings that person brought out in her. But the one person who seemed to be her exception at the moment was: Harkon.

A man she was suppose to have a blinding hatred for. A man that was suppose to make her cringe. A man she wasn't suppose to have feelings for, at all. But right there, in front of him, she melted like ice under the summer sun.

In any reasonable situation, she would have pushed him away or slapped him straight across the face, but this wasn't any reasonable situation. The moment his lips met hers, she tossed away reason, common sense and rationality. The whole atmosphere was like an ocean, bringing in rolling tidal waves of emotional bliss, but as the tide rolled away, it left behind a charge of fiery passion.

Harkon's lips were like ice – cold and breath taking. Arela felt like Harkon had stole the air from her lungs and was holding it captive, like a prisoner she would have to release.

At first Harkon kissed her gently (which seemed out of character for a very authoritative man) as he let his well trimmed beard tickle her upper lip. It had been as if he was almost unsure if he was doing the appropriate thing. But once Arela responded by mimicking him, Harkon stepped up his game.

His kisses became more demanding, as if he had a certain thirst that needed to be filled. She could feel a hungry growl being released from Harkon's throat. It was hard not to shiver as his growl rumbled into her very body.

Arela wrapped her arms around Harkon's neck, forcing herself closer to him. But before she knew it Harkon had his hands snaked around her waist, drawing her in. His icy touch actually surprised her, causing her to jump a bit.

His lips seemed to encompass her and yet they seemed to overwhelm and crush her. For him this wasn't passionate, it was about possessiveness, and Arela tried to stop the fight for domination by breaking the kiss.

But Harkon retaliated by sinking his teeth into her lower lip. He raked his fangs along her lip. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood, but it was enough to elect a soft moan from her throat. Deep down she knew Harkon had desired that reaction, and Arela felt foolish for letting her self-control slip.

Unexpectedly, Harkon gripped on her braid and yanked with an excessive and assertive force. Arela felt her head recoil back, causing her neck to be exposed. She felt an uncensored moan leap from her throat, which only fed Harkon's desire.

He wasted no time leaving a trail of cold lascivious bites along the nape of her neck, which caused Arela to feel like she had lost control, as her back began to arch in pure pleasure.

But curiously Harkon stopped right on the fang marks that were etched into her skin. Arela could almost feel that spot on her neck burning up, as if a flame were dancing there.

He let his lip ghostly run over the wound, as if he was cherishing his own work.

"I never thought it possible that a vampire could resonate such heat. But you seem to break every exception. " Harkon whispered into her neck, causing Arela to squirm.

Harkon tilted her head just enough for him to look directly into her eyes, and he just give her a darkly seductive smirk. Arela swore her knees were about to give way, and her breath hitched in her throat.

She was trembling now, she felt as though her body was craving Harkon. As if she was trying a drug for the first time, and already her body was addicted. This frenzy was uncontrollable and all her common sense was replaced with lust.

Lust was an emotion foreign to her, never before had she felt enthralled by a man, and consumed by her own mistake. Arela knew in her heart this was a mistake, and why she still allowed herself to tumble into this trap was what perplexed her.

_This was a mistake._ The words were ingrates in her thoughts once more. _What compelled me to do this to myself?_ She felt small waves of shame overcome her now – every warning that Serana had given her she had tossed straight out the window, as she continued to let Harkon leave erotic bites on her neck.

Deep down she knew she had to stop this now, before things got carried away.

"Harkon…" Arela said shakily. "Please st-" But she never got to complete her sentence, for the two of them heard footsteps approaching.

In a flash, Harkon put at least five feet between them, it was as if nothing had just occurred. He had a smug smirk on his face, but otherwise he looked perfectly normal. His breathing was even, and he still looked untouchable – which Arela couldn't say for herself.

Her whole body was shaking from the adrenaline that was coursing through her. She was desperately gasping for air as if she had just run across all of Skyrim without so much as a break. She could tell her cheeks were flushed, and her head was still reeling from the whole endeavor.

Garan walked up the steps and looked directly at her, and then shot Harkon a suspicious glance. "Are you two ready, yet?"

Harkon had been watched her this whole time with an amused gleam in his eye, but he turned away from her finally at Garan's question. "I am, Garan. But, it seems Arela has not yet composed herself. The impending battle has probably frayed her nerves, give her time to collect herself. I think I will oblige myself, and greet our guests."

Arela couldn't help but feel relieved, as Harkon walked by without another glance. Though the sound in his step was one of victory, and it annoyed her to no end.

Once Harkon had left, a deathly silence overtook the room. Garan just stood there, carefully eyeing her, as Arela ran a hand down her braid to try and smooth some loose hair.

She was still trying to absorb the events that had just transpired, but for some reason the whole thing seemed like an out of body experience, as if a heavy mist had clouded her better judgment. Interfering with her sanity, and clashing with her own rationality.

She thought back, back to when she had felt an overwhelming wave of intense emotion. It had been so spontaneous and powerful, something that felt impossible to fight, and the only option was to succumb to it – and for some odd reason Arela felt like it wasn't even her emotion she had felt.

Could it possibly have been the Blood Bond that had defeated her better judgment? For all she knew Harkon could cast his emotions off with just a simple thought.

She frowned; this definitely wasn't a good thing... Arela looked over at Garan who seemed to almost be reading her mind.

"Garan, is possible that Harkon can project his emotions onto me?"

Garan gave her a very knowing smile. "Yes, all beholders of the bond can do that to their subjects. I know what you're talking about, Arela. I have the gift of foresight if you have forgotten, and I know what just happened."

Arela choked out desperately. "Garan, what should I do? I can't just leave, I want to run but I can't, not now."

"I don't know what to tell you. There isn't much you can do, what Harkon does with his emotions is something you don't have control of I'm afraid."

"But there has to be something, right? You said Valerica use to take advantage of the bond she had on you, you must know how to fight it?"

"Well, I never really tried to fight the bond... I liked Valerica, so I just let her feelings control me." Garan said slightly ashamed at himself.

Arela gulped, "Well, what should I do then? I can't pretend this never happened, because there is no way Harkon will let me live this down..."

Garan's brow furrowed as he thought, "Once you're fully healed after this battle, I advise you leave and don't return. But even I don't know how helpful that is. These bonds are written in blood, so the effects are often deeper than a physically distance."

She nodded in response. _Leaving, running, and hiding from Harkon._ Arela wasn't use to running from her problems, it was her own inner demons she shied away from, not her opponents.

"Thank you for your council, Garan. I do appreciate your help."

"You're welcome Arela. Now are you ready to face this possibly life-ending fight?"

Arela let out a frustrated sigh,_ leave it to Garan to be so blatant_. "I'm ready as I'll ever be." She stated before giving Serana's room one last sad glance, before she pried herself away. For all she knew, this was the last time she would see it.

* * *

It had been at least a month since Arela had been in the cathedral, and now she was reminded why. The room was bleak, and ominous; shadows shifted and flowed around the room like a dangerous entity.

The room was still gloomy even as little beams of light penetrated through the dirty, thick panes of glass placed high above the Shrine of Molag Bal. Blood adorned the floor around the shrine, like paintings that were yet to be completed.

Dust was suspended in the air, only collecting on the gargoyles statues that were crouching down in squatting positions, as if they were ready to spring to life.

The two Redguards were stalking before her now. Their eyes were hungry for blood, but Arela wasn't going to let that discourage her.

The court members were absent, but she knew they were impatiently waiting for the battle to start, and they would surely listen to it. Any fight involving their Lord would initiate their curiosity naturally.

The fact that Garan was overseeing the fight envied many of the court members like Vingalmo and Orthjolf, Arela was sure of that. Especially since they were considered senior members, and often laid claim to special privileges.

But Arela had figured out instantly why Harkon had chosen Garan, it was as simple as trust. Harkon couldn't entrust his battle tactics or skills to a men like Orthjolf or Vingalmo.

She watched tentatively as Garan nervously paced between both parties, as if he was the peace keeper. He kept at his rapid strides until Harkon signaled for him to cease.

Harkon gave Garan permission to speak, with a whisk of his hand. "Well, it seems we are finally able to start this highly anticipated battle. The stakes are, the title as Lord of Castle Volkihar, as well as, Arela Snow-Strider's courtly position. Now this is a fight to the death, and the fight doesn't end until one side has been proclaimed dead. Now, both parties are ready?"

Garan turned to the two Redguard men first, and they both nodded eagerly. "I, Akiras and my brother, Rushkos, accept your challenge." They wasted no time drawing their scimitars, and running their hands over their blades, as a way to try and intimate Arela and Harkon, but their tactic was useless.

As Garan turned to them, Harkon slowly nodded his approval. He didn't even bother to withdraw a weapon or spell, and Harkon's lack of trepidation left the brothers enraged.

Arela was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable, she hadn't signed up for this, and honestly she just wanted to leave Harkon to his own devices.

"I'm ready." Arela tried to conjure some confidence, but her words still came out as a ghostly whisper. She ran her hand over the necklace Serana had given her, the Amulet of the Moon-Treader, a remnant of Lady Luck. _Please Nocturnal, watch over me_. She pleaded with her Daedric protector.

Garan cleared his throat. "Then, the battle has begun. I shall leave as Harkon has instructed me to." He remarked, slowly backing away toward the large wooden cathedral doors. There was a sickening creak, before the door slammed shut leaving them completely stranded in this portion of the castle.

A churning silence stirred the air, it was thick and heavy. It almost felt like it was seeping in her very bones, turning her limbs to lead, and Arela was even too afraid to move.

She watched as the Redguard men stood at attention, not moving, they simply just stared Harkon down, as if their eyes were laser beams that could burn a hole right through him. Not even Harkon made the first move; he was tentatively waiting for them to act first.

Though she had always been intimidated by making the first move, she didn't want this to be a waiting game any longer; building suspense never did any good in her opinion.

Arela decided she wasn't going to hold in her potential any longer, if this battle could be ended early it was worth divulging her secret. It wasn't like she had any other weapons she could use, except for the dagger tucked in her boot. Her voice was her primary weapon for this battle, for once her bow and Chillrend would have to take a back seat.

Taking in a deep and crisp breath of air, Arela let her thu'um explode from her throat. "_FUS RO DAH_!"

The air around her expanded and contracted as the shock wave of energy surged forth and crashed directly into the Redguard men's chests. Their bodies flew across the cathedral, past the shrine of Molag Bal, and crashed harshly against the curved walls of the chapel.

Arela stumbled back from the force exerted; she instantly dug her heels into the floor to keep herself from toppling over.

Once she had regained her footing, she couldn't help but observe the damage she had inflicted. To her surprise, the men were already clambing to their feet, it was plain that they were shaken up, but now Arela could almost smell a fresh scent of fear resonating off them.

She couldn't help but take pride in finally knocking the cocky bastards down from their high and mighty mountains – but her thoughts of self awarded victory were broken.

A dark chuckle echoed off the walls in the cathedral, as she watched Harkon pace forward toward the Redguard assailants. "Now, you two aren't naive enough to believe I choose her for bait? You have underestimated my strength and assets in your desire for power, and now you will pay dearly for your miscalculations."

"We will beat you, and your dark witch." Rushkos growled, they had stabled themselves, but now their eyes were filled with vengeance.

_Dark witch!_ The words shrieked in her mind, like nails being dragged on metal, imprinting that piercing, cold, steely sound in her brain.

"Who are you calling a dark witch!" Arela hissed hysterically, as she was about to rush at them – but Harkon stuck out his arm to block her clearly harebrained idea.

Harkon casually summoned a stony gargoyle. It's shrill roars filled the air, spreading its wings, the stony soldier fluttered forward. Lunging out, the beast tried to sink its claws right into Akiras.

Akiras responded by kicking the gargoyle squarely in its concrete chest. His brother, Rushkos, slashed his scimitar through the gargoyles throat dismembering its head.

Akiras wasted no time, he instantly tried to exact his revenge, he sprinted at Harkon. But Harkon sidestepped just in time to dodge the assault. Harkon left the man not a moment to recover from his charge, Arela watched as Harkon released a blood red spell from his palms.

But her gaze was pulled away as Rushkos splintered away from Harkon's fight, he stalked toward her, his footsteps were deafening in her mind. His gaze was fully focused on her, and she shivered and started to back away.

He gripped his scimitar and twirled it in his palm, before he swung it at her.

Panic rose in her throat, and without another thought Arela let her primal instincts take control. She let thu'um rise in her throat once again.

"_FEIM_!" She screamed just in time, as she felt the cold, steely blade of the Redguard pass through her stomach. He gave her a bewildered look as his sword didn't do any damage to her ethereal form. She watched the pale mist lift from her body, as flesh and bone materialized leaving her vulnerable, and defenseless once again.

Arela jumped back, hoping to put some distance between her, and her attacker - but her hopes were crushed the moment he continued on his pursuit with a renewed vigor. Angrily, Rushkos swung at her, driving her closer and closer to the cathedral doors as she dodged his skillful barrage of slashes.

As Rushkos was swinging vertically, Arela was given the opportunity to duck and grasp the Daedric dagger placed in her boot. She thanked the divines, for Rushkos's next attack she wouldn't have been able to dodge, so she blocked it with the Daedric dagger.

The clash of metal was like a painful shriek for help – and the force of the strike was enough to cause her to stumble back.

Any expert swordsmen would take advantage of an enemy that was disoriented, so Rushkos took another hardy swing at her. Arela brought her dagger up in just enough time to block the strike, but the power behind the bash knocked the weapon right out of her hand.

Her beloved Daedric dagger fell out of her hand, and clattered to the floor right in front of her feet.

"This is the end for you, witch." Rushkos snarled, preparing another brutal swing - but Arela was already one step ahead of him.

"_ZUN HAAL VIIK_!"Arela let the words roll off her tongue, almost effortlessly, but the power backing her words were what sent Rushkos' scimitar flying right out of his vice-like grip.

The Redguard watched helplessly as his sword soared through the air, like a bird, before clattering to the floor at least fifteen feet away.

Arela bolted past him, hoping to put some distance between them, before Rushkos could react – but once again she misjudged the Redguard.

He whipped around to face her, his eyes were searing with pure and unadulterated anger, as Arela haphazardly rushing past him. He grasped a hold on her injured shoulder.

A howl of pain escaped her lips – and she crumpled under his wickedly, powerful grip. The pain in her shoulder was unbearable, like thousands of knives simultaneously being stabbed into her healing flesh.

Rushkos unceremoniously tossed Arela on her back, before slamming a rugged, sand-splashed boot into her stomach forcing the air right out of her body. Not even her Guildmaster armour could protect her from the wave of pain that his foot caused, as Arela's stomach lurched from the impact – and stars flashes across her vision leaving her slightly delusional.

"Now, you will die." He said in a mocking tone, as he picked her up by the neck, obviously to choke her out.

Feebly, she turned to Harkon, hoping, just hoping, he would be able to help her, maybe even save her from the everlasting spell of oncoming death. Her heart only sank when she saw that Harkon was blade to blade with the other Redguard, Akiras. The thought of his assistance dwindled to nothing.

Rushkos' grip on her throat tightened, little by little as Arela felt his hand constrict around her neck with a crushing force. Genuine fear set in as her lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen.

Looking down at her feet, she realized she was dangling off the ground, and below her was her Daedric dagger, laying there, just out of her reach. She knew it was out of her grasp – but still desperately, she tried to reach for it, almost praying to the divines and daedra alike that it would somehow end up in her hand.

Black spots were beginning to form in her vision, and her head started to spin, as she extended her hand helplessly to the dagger. Even in her fragments of clear vision, Arela could almost swear the dagger was twitching, as if trying to extend itself to her – but she blamed the delusion on the lack of air.

Rushkos twisted his fingers around her throat harder. She felt as though her windpipe was collapsing – and all she wanted to do was scream in agony. He know her finally moments were approaching, and he was right in his assumption, as black dots and stars were shooting across her range of view.

In a dire moment it was so frustrating seeing her last glimmer of hope just out of reach – but now the dagger, which symbolized her very survival, was actually moving on it's own accord toward her, like a magnet attracted to it's opposite charge. It crawled across the floor slowly, it's metal scraping across the tile, before shooting up straight to her hand in mere moments.

In any reasonable situation she would have questioned what just happened, like why that dagger just shot straight into her palm?! But with her time diminishing and her vision darkening, Arela just went with her instinct and sunk the dagger into Rushkos' right arm.

Rushkos dropped her immediately, he was howling in pain and surprise. She could tell he hadn't even expected the attack.

Arela got to her feet, sputtering and gasping for air. She let out a few desperate coughs, before she dragged herself back on her feet, and attempted to slash Rushkos across the stomach, but he dodged it.

As an archer Arela had become quite adept at fighting with a dagger, and it was all about using your attacker's energy against them. Rushkos took a swinging punch at her, but she nimbly ducked and drove the dagger into his stomach.

Blood seeped down her hand – so Arela retracted the weapon from his gut, and backed away from him, leaving Rushkos to his own accord.

He stumbled backwards, letting out a gasp of shock and anguish; he covered the wound desperately trying to stop the streams of blood that were escaping the stab. She watched him shake and quiver at the puncture.

But his tremors of fear turned into ones of uncontrollable anger; he hunched over his stomach like a pregnant mother protecting her unborn child.

Arela was confounded, when she witnessed his body deforming, as bones contorted, and snapped in directs she never imagined possible. His arms, hands, feet and legs grew; fingers extended in length and turned into sharp flesh-tearing claws.

Rushkos face became wider and his nose elongated into a black snout. His eyes turned into ebony beads.

Hair was sprouting in every direction, it was very apparent Rushkos was taking on the form of a werewolf, his head thrashed back and forth, as howls of distress filled the air before his desert garbs burst from his new form.

Arela unsheathed Chillrend – but she nearly dropped the sword as it's weight twisted her shoulder. It was too heavy for her to swing, and now she realized how utterly screwed she was.

"Harkon! Help me!" Arela yelled, as the beast turned it's deadly gaze toward her. She turned around just in time to see that Harkon had killed the other brother - but he had also taken on the form of a Vampire Lord.

His blue skin was still foreign to her, as well as his tattered blue wings that were outstretched, as he lingered over his fallen victim. Blood was dripping from his large claws and teeth, and Arela felt as though she was caught between two monsters.

Harkon's red flowing cape and crown still gave off a commanding semblance, even his cocky gait was still present though – but her screech for help called his attention.

Arela whipped around, to see the monster towering over her. "_YOL_!"She yelped in surprise, as the beast's claws skimmed her arm, knocking her off her feet.

The smell of scorched fur invaded her nostrils, bringing a fit of coughs and gags, looking up she saw the monster through the smoke. Beyond the singed patches of fur, the werewolf was relatively unhurt – but the taste of fire definitely drove the beast to rage. It howled in protest, charging at her on all fours, with its claws about to lash out.

Arela closed her eyes not wanting to witness the onslaught, as her flesh was peeled away by ravenous claws, and her body ripped apart. She kept her eyes closed for what felt like an eternity, waiting for nails to sink into her skin and tear it away.

Finally, she timidly opened one eye; she didn't even have an idea of what to expect – but she was bewildered at the sight of Harkon fending off the werewolf with a swipe of his claws.

She watched the two beasts pace around each other snarling back and forth, as if speaking their own language. It was the werewolf that struck first, leaping off the ground, over Harkon's head and landing next to her with a thud. Shock flooded into her body, and desperately she started crawling backwards, though she realized it was futile to try and outrun a werewolf. From his teeth dripped trendless of saliva and hot puffs of dog breath brushed against her cheeks.

She readied herself for one more Shout – but this time Harkon grasped hold of the werewolf's throat, digging his claws into its jugular vein, before ripping his nails through the tender flesh. Blood cascaded onto the floor and on her black Guildmaster boots, thought the wolf still thrashed in Harkon's grasp. After struggling for a short time the beast finally let out a few more weak twitches before going completely limp.

Harkon tossed the carcass aside, as if it was a piece of garbage not worth a cent. He stood there for a second in his Vampire Lord form, looking down upon her with his raven-black eyes.

Did Harkon just save me? Arela wondered. No, it was just a way of keeping her indebted to him, she thought cynically. Harkon wasn't the type of man to go out of his way for others. Never, he would never do that.

She had been so caught up staring in his jet black gaze she hadn't even noticed him rapidly transforming back to his human self.

He didn't even say a word, he just helped her up and stabilized her, so she could stand on her feet.

Arela's eyes were attracted to a wound that was on Harkon's arm; blood was seeping into the blushing pink fabric of his armour, and it was a substantial amount.

"You're wounded?" Arela finally broke the heavy silence.

"Yes, my intervention cost me a wound. It's nothing." Harkon dismissed the wound, though the amount of blood that was soaking into his shirt suggested otherwise.

Guilt washed over her, _those wounds are suppose to adorn my body, not Harkon's_. She thought spitefully, and now she felt even more indebted to the man. Damn it.

Arela was about to retaliate – but the doors of the cathedral burst open, and the members of the court flooded in.

They all crowded around Harkon, muttering about the battle and commenting on his wounded arm. It was as of they had never seen a scratch before.

"My Lord, you're hurt." Vingalmo said curiously.

Harkon clutched his arm, and scowled. "Yes, yes, I'm not oblivious, Vingalmo."

Garan stepped forward. "Yes my Lord, but if you received it from a werewolf, then you know it doesn't heal by normal means. It will require stitches, and I don't know how to apply stitches, and from the looks of it, if you don't get stitches soon, you could bleed out."

Wild chatter erupted from the court. Garan was like the court doctor, and if Garan didn't know how to do something it was obviously a big deal, and the fact that Harkon's life was being threatened was probably a new fact.

Harkon stood there, not uttering a word to silence his muttering and untamed court. His eyes were fixed on Arela, and it was starting to bother her.

"Hestla, do you know how to stitch wounds?" Garan asked.

"Just because I spent time with the Companions doesn't mean I'm some medic." She retorted sharply.

"Does anyone know how to give stitches?" Garan questioned. There was tense silence, as no one stepped forward to help Harkon.

Vingalmo and Orthjolf almost looked overjoyed at the news of Harkon's life threatening condition. Just the power hungry look in their eyes was purely sickening.

Finally, someone pushed forth to help the desperate Lord. "I know how to give stitches." Arela admitted, though she already regretted stepping forward, once Harkon's gaze settled on her with a very pleased gleam in his eyes.

_What the hell am I getting myself into?_ Arela wondered in horror.

* * *

**[A/N]: Well, well. What did you guys think? I spent quite a bit of time on this chapter, so any feedback would be amazing! Thanks again for reading! :)**


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